


Were Were

by saintsaint



Series: Were Aware [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode 4x12 (The Forest), Werewolves, whatever. whatever! i'm here for a laff!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsaint/pseuds/saintsaint
Summary: “Moonlight touches skin, wolf til sunlight,” the Quartermaster repeats. “Such is the curse and the blessing.”“But I have camp,” David protests. “I can’t keep abandoning Gwen, she’ll kill me! ...and it’s not fair to her,” he adds.David is just so relieved to be back at Camp Campbell after his impromptu "vacation" in The Forest. So the Quartermaster keeps talking about lunar curses and wolves -- so Gwen is both worried about and pissed at him and it's messing with his emotions -- so the moonlight makes him feel like tearing his shirt off and running through the woods -- David is sure that everything is going to be just fine!...right?
Relationships: David/Gwen (Camp Camp)
Series: Were Aware [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739209
Comments: 34
Kudos: 108





	1. After the Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-episode 4x12 (The Forest). See end notes for content warnings.

It takes not one, not three, but _two_ screaming voices to rouse David enough for him to finally squint into vague awareness.

It’s still dark out, but he’s reassured even before his eyes adjust by the mixed smells of the ever-musty woolen blankets of the Counselors Cabin and the cheap ink from the pens Gwen favors. _I’m home_ , he thinks, with heart-squeezing relief, even as his exhausted brain starts to work on distinguishing the voices in the background.

His body aches all over, which he supposes _is_ an improvement from the needle-sharp agony he’d been in two weeks ago. The lump on his head has shrunk to nearly nothing, but the bite on his arm still has him wincing; even twitching in sleep is enough to send pain radiating from the breaks in his leg. Mostly, he’s just tired: two weeks of living in the woods with no supplies, a broken leg, and the responsibility for an injured, wild wolf left him without a lot of energy to spare.

And now he’s home, in an actual bed, and the only thing standing between him and sweet, restorative sleep is... a shouting match between Gwen and the Quartermaster?

“— bitten when the seal was weak, and then defended by his attacker —”

“— don’t know what David said he’s okay with but when _I_ lock the door I expect it to _stay locked_ —”

“— can’t you feel it, girl? That’s not human anymore —”

David reaches out with his uninjured arm. The bedside lamp comes on with a flick, casting orange light onto the scene.

The Quartermaster has replaced his hook with a menacingly long, scarily sharp knife that glints along its silver edge. His single eye bores into David with more emotion than usual, violent and… regretful, almost? Gwen’s back is to David, standing between him and the Quartermaster. She’s in her camp uniform, though it’s seriously sleep-rumpled; after two weeks as the only counselor at Camp Campbell, David can easily imagine her collapsing into bed without the energy to even change into pajamas after a long day. He winces in sympathy even as she turns towards the light, looking frazzled and jumpy and maybe, in the lamp’s glow, a little bit like a defending angel.

A distant part of David’s brain notes that this is maybe a little more dramatic than most of his wakeups, before Gwen shrieks and pulls David’s guitar out of _nowhere_ , lifting it over her head in a familiar move. His brain recognizes it and automatically initiates Self-Defensive Move Gwen-Alpha.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—!”

He flinches and the guitar stops a half inch from his nose. Gwen, holding the other end, gapes at him.

“ _David_??”

“He’s awake,” Quartermaster announces, lowering his knife-arm.

“Hi,” David says, a bit more squeakily than he’d prefer. To be fair, though, he’s only spoken to wild animals the past few weeks, and his heart is pounding faster than a rabbit’s at the barely-stopped attack. Some part of him is a little touched, actually, that when Gwen needed defending she went for _his_ guitar.

Then she drops the instrument with a discordant clang that has him wincing all over again — guitars aren’t exactly inexpensive, and they take time to carve, after all! — before she launches herself at him.

“I’m sorry,” he manages on instinct before her arms curl around him and he realizes he’s being _hugged_.

This… might be a dream, actually. Maybe David never made it through that bear attack and now his brain is throwing up comforting nonsense as he bleeds out in the forest. If so, at least that means Wolfie didn’t have to step in; David couldn’t be that mad about dying if it meant she lived.

Aware that reality might reassert itself at any moment, David cautiously brings his arms up to return the hug — and Gwen pulls away to _snack_ him on the shoulder, her expression thunderous. _You missed the opportunity for a Gwen-hug!_ part of him wails, but he’s more focused on trying to understand the complicated emotions flashing across her face -- of course she was angry, but was that _fear_?

“Where _were_ you?! What happened? Are you okay? Do you have _any idea_ what you _left_ me with? Is this beard real? Did - did something _maul_ you? David, say something, I swear to God —”

“Sorry,” he says, as she pulls away — not to scoop up his guitar and wield it with righteous fury, but to check him over, hands light and analytical as she searches for wounds. The adrenaline from nearly getting smashed over the head is finally fading and he hisses as she shifts, bumping his left leg. “Ow. Um, I fell when I was putting the canoes away and hit my head. The current carried me downstream. I - ran into some trouble, haha.”

He gives the best smile he can manage after days without doing his smile exercises, and by the look on Gwen’s face he can tell that _she_ can tell that he’s out of practice. He’ll have to get back into the habit as soon as he can.

“Er, everything’s healing, anyway! So I’m okay. I _am_ sorry about leaving you with the kids alone for so long — were they really that bad?” It belatedly occurs to him that he never even finished going over the last adventure’s lesson with the kids — no wonder Gwen had had such a rough time of it! He makes another mental note to bring that up with them as soon as possible.

“David, as always, they were absolute hellions,” Gwen replies as she hurries over to where they keep the first and second aid kits. She cracks them open and sets immediately to flashing a penlight in his eyes, checking for a concussion. “Is this thing on your leg supposed to be a _brace_? QM, go get a real one from storage. David, untie this unless you want me to cut it off.”

She plucks at the yellow t-shirt he’s got wrapped around his arm as she searches the kits for gauze. He obediently tugs the knot free and glances at the Quartermaster, who hasn’t moved. He just stands there, his expression even more unreadable than usual.

David folds up the little yellow shirt and sets it aside; he’d been pretty religious about washing the bloodstains out while in the woods, but he’s definitely going to need to hit it with some bleach if he really wants it clean. His mental to-do list is getting longer and it’s not even… well, he has no idea what time it is, actually, besides being the ideal time to be sleeping.

“Where’s the bite?”

“Hm?” he says, blinking. He’s _so tired_.

“The _bite_ , David, the one that was clearly bleeding through the shirt on your arm. Where did it bite you? And _what_ bit you? Please tell me it wasn’t rabid.”

 _That_ wakes him up a bit. He glances down at his injured arm, where nearly two weeks ago Wolfie, healthy but angry, had bitten through to bone, leaving a vicious open wound which had been oozing consistently as it slowly, slowly healed.

The thing is, besides some blood that wipes away with Gwen’s brisk cleaning, his arm looks totally unscathed.

He blinks. Then, stupidly, he checks his other arm, as though he’d somehow wrapped the wrong one. They match, in that both seem perfectly uninjured.

“The wolf,” Quartermaster says. Gwen jumps, whipping around to glare at him, but the man’s focus remains on David. He feels the hair on the back of his neck start to stand up at the intensity in his eye. “Willingly sacrificed for her pack, while the fabric between dimensions was at its weakest. An ancient ritual, one not repeated since—”

“ _Quartermaster_ ,” Gwen hisses. The other man finally breaks eye contact to look at her; David realizes with some shock that she’s seething, worse even than when Max had been blackmailing her. “I _said_ . The _brace_.”

David glances at them both, wide-eyed, as electricity seems to crackle in the space between them. Finally, and against all odds, Quartermaster huffs and turns towards the door. “Be back. Don’t get bit.”

The screen door creaks behind him and closes with a sharp _thwack_. Gwen mutters to herself as she scrubs at his arm, wiping away dried blood until it’s clean and clear that there’s no bite wound. Stunned, David flips it over, but all he sees is pink skin and a few freckles. It’s as if the bite were never there.

“ _David_ ,” Gwen says, like it’s not the first time she’s tried to get his attention. David startles, blinking rapidly as he focuses on her. She looks almost worried, the way she rarely is without accompanying anger.

“Yes? S-sorry, I was just. Um. Arm,” David tries. The furrow between her brows deepens, and she checks his eyes again, like she’s suddenly doubting her first diagnosis. To his shock, she even slides a hand carefully though his hair, checking his skull for bumps or cracks. David nearly falls over when she pulls away -- he’d been leaning into it without even realizing. Gwen hardly ever touches him, and it’s been a long two weeks since he’s seen anyone human.

“Well, you don’t seem to have a concussion, or any other new brain trauma,” she finally announces, closing the first and second aid boxes. “We’ll need to get your leg in a real splint, but besides that you’re pretty much as patched up as we could have gotten you here.” She fingers the yellow shirt for a moment, thoughtful. “I don’t know what this is from, but you’re not bleeding now. How do you feel?”

David pulls his focus away from his apparently unbitten arm to catalogue everything else, which is to say… not much. Even though he could swear that just a little while ago his whole body was twinging in pain, even though this afternoon he lived through a _bear attack_ , David actually feels… pretty alright.

“I’m fine, I think. Just the leg hurts, and I’m pretty tired, but… it wasn’t really that bad.” Gwen squints at him with suspicion, and her David-you’re-pissing-me-off-somehow-but-I-haven’t-figured-out-exactly-how-yet expression starts to make an appearance. He winces. “I really am sorry, Gwen. I got back here as fast as I could, but it took me longer than I would have liked. You’re a really great co-counselor; thank you for taking such good care of the camp while I was gone.”

In the gentle light from the lantern, he can see her expression soften for just a moment before she rolls her eyes and shoves the aid kits away. “Yeah, well, someone fucking had to.”

* * *

Gwen refuses to let him take breakfast duty the next morning, and in fact insists he stay in bed for more rest. To ensure that he doesn’t have to get up, she even brings him a tray of food, along with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He’s touched when he realizes that the cocoa mix must come from her own personal stash, considering that the camp itself ran out during the last summer snowfall. He maybe scares her away a little by crying on her, but, well. He’s just feeling particularly grateful after his time in the forest.

He really is so glad to be back, and even though he _knows_ that resting is a good idea, he also doesn’t want to wait to see the kids. So after he eats every last crumb of his breakfast, David showers, shaves away his beard, and gets dressed.

 _Good thing I kept all my t-shirts from when I was a camper_ , he muses as he folds a fresh yellow shirt into a bandana. He puts his hands on his hips and gives a practiced, sunny smile at his reflection. Besides the (blessedly decent quality) leg brace, he looks just the same as he always does on workdays. It’s practically like the past two weeks never happened.

The smile on his reflection fades a little bit as he rubs his left arm. It’s just as smooth and unmarked as it was last night, despite the fact that yesterday morning the bite wound had still been bleeding intermittently enough to merit being wrapped.

David sinks onto his bed for a moment, reaching for the shirt he’d used to bandage it. Dried blood stains it in a pattern consistent with the bite wounds he’d had, but his arm is totally unscarred.

“Hmm,” he says aloud. The pack he’d fashioned in the woods rests at the foot of his bed; he pulls out the second half of the shirt and compares the two.

He’d cut the front from the back when he’d realized he needed more material to bandage both himself and Wolfie. While he doesn’t regret it, it does sting a bit that the little shirt can’t be salvaged. Still, there had been no point in leaving it after Wolfie had healed, and now he compares the two halves in his hands.

Wolfie’s half is more torn up — unsurprisingly, given her initial mistrust of David’s attempts to help. She’d poked a number of holes through it with her sharp teeth; David fingers these thoughtfully as he checks the faded bloodstains, their pattern indicating two deep stab wounds rather than the clear bite the shirt’s other half shows.

In the shower, he’d checked the scratches on his back: still there, if mostly healed. He still needs the brace for his leg, and although it maybe isn’t as bad as it had been the other day, it still hurts terribly if he puts too much weight on it. Only the bite wound has disappeared like it had never been there.

It occurs to him that if he really felt the need, he could find his way back to Wolfie’s grave — but he dismisses this, pressing the shirt halves together and folding them as one.

“Weirder things have happened this summer,” he reassures himself, and sets the little shirt aside as he stands. There’s no point in questioning this odd little mystery when its effects are harmless and there are more important things to do.

He aims his best smile at his reflection, fueled by his gratitude and confidence that now that he’s back at Camp Campbell, everything is going to be fine. It’s time to say hello to his campers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: david thinks he's gonna get murdered by gwen for a minute. if there should be other warnings please lmk!
> 
> 1\. i was possessed and then wrote 20.000 tonally inconsistent words of this in a week. there will be 7 chapters, one for each episode after The Forest (except for the holiday special). between editing this to feel like one proper story, i'm working on two more fics in this "universe." i hope you enjoy! :]  
> 2\. every camper has a speaking role, but max has actual influence on the plot, hence his being properly tagged. otherwise this is about david trying to keep it together bc his becoming a werewolf is making life harder for Gwen, which is just NOT acceptable to him omg D:  
> 3\. this story is strongly inspired by the episode "Full Disclosure" from Steven Universe, forestwater's excellent fics (https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater/works?fandom_id=10760626), and this comic (https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Du1DOV8UYAAmwSX.jpg). [also if u kno the artist for that comic hmu plz.]  
> 4\. how great is QM?? i’m delighted that there’s a canonical character for supernatural nonsense exposition. thank u roosterteeth.  
> 5\. this whole thing is supernatural nonsense, actually, bc WHATEVER, i am here for a Laff!! my own amusement was paramount in this silly little thing! i was too embarrassed to get a beta but why not share anyway!!  
> 6\. so *SPOILERS* bc in canon gwen and david seem romantically uninvolved (i GUESS), and bc this was written as an addition to canon rather than a rewrite, they don’t officially get together in this fic. that said, this whole thing is p much about david loving gwen and trying to be better for/with her, so i hope you feel their goddamn romance as much as i doooo
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


	2. Campfire Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David: ??????  
> David: This is Fine.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows episode 4x13 (Campfire Tales). Does not actually include any tails. See end notes for content warnings.

“Full moon tonight,” the Quartermaster grunts. 

David nearly loses his whole tray at the old man’s sudden appearance. It’s lunchtime, and the Quartermaster has been suspiciously absent all morning. Now he stands next to David, who had been left to hustle together some sandwiches for the kids and is finally getting the chance to sit down and eat.

He barely manages to catch his sandwich — it’s ham-turkey-baloney-and-roast-beef which, while maybe not the healthiest option, is an answer to the insistent cravings he’s had lately (and maybe he should make an effort to make sure he’s eating enough protein, he mentally notes) — and sets it aside for a moment, the better to focus on the Quartermaster. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Full moon tonight.” The Quartermaster sniffs loudly, looking at him sidelong. “Its light will change whatever it touches.”

“Oh!” says David, because he’s right - Gwen’s Werewolf of the Month calendar makes a big deal about the lunar cycle, and today is indeed the first night of three that are considered part of the full moon (David hadn’t even known the full moon lasted three nights!). The summer sure is going by fast. “Did you have an idea for our campers for tonight?”

The Quartermaster continues to stare at him out of the corner of his eye and David barely resists the urge to start nervously bouncing his leg or something. He’s not usually quite this jumpy, but ever since he woke up this morning he’s been full of this jittery, restless energy that has made trying to stay still and focus even more difficult than it usually is. Even spending most of the morning teaching and participating in Excessive Weight Pulling Camp hadn’t done much to temper David’s high energy — it had just made him hungry.

He glances at the sandwich on his plate with no small amount of longing.

Finally, the Quartermaster speaks again. “First transformation shows what you really are, inside and out. After that the moonlight won’t let you hide again. Ever. Big night for change and revelation.”

David can feel his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. He’s… really not sure what that’s supposed to mean. “Well, that’s a beautiful sentiment, Quartermaster. I’ll be sure to think about that.”

With his hook, the Quartermaster reaches into a pocket and unceremoniously deposits its contents on the lunch table. It’s a necklace, silver-colored and long enough to slip over someone’s head. A simple pendant of polished black stone hangs off of it, reflecting the fluorescent lights of the mess hall.

“To prevent the transformation from immediately taking effect. Not for long-term use; will push it off for a few hours. Was in my cave.”

“Oh, it’s lovely!” David says in total honesty, because it is a nice little piece of jewelry, even if it’s not really his thing.

“Yours now.”

“What? O-oh, Quartermaster, that’s, um, very generous of you, but I don’t think —“

The Quartermaster slashes his hook down into the table, splitting the wood with a sharp  _ CRACK _ . David yelps as the man bears down on him, leaning far into his space. “YOU WILL TAKE IT.”

“OKAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH,” David replies with the normal amount of fear.

The Quartermaster eyes him for a long, tense moment, then tugs his hook out of the table with his typical air of disinterest. “Put on before moonrise. Do not wear two nights in a row. Don’t kill anyone.”

To David’s relief, he ambles away after this. David eyes the necklace as Gwen returns from reminding-slash-convincing Space Kid that he needs to remove his helmet in order to eat. She slides in next to him, an eyebrow raised. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” David answers honestly, and takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s  _ delicious _ — he can practically feel the tension running out of him as he chews, thinking about full moons and metaphors. He swallows. “Hey Gwen? What do you think about doing scary stories around a bonfire tonight?”

* * *

The necklace, it turns out, is weirdly staticky. David knows a bit about geology thanks to a misunderstanding a few years back regarding a kid who signed up for Rock and Metal Camp, but he’s never heard of any mineral, metal, or gem that makes its wearer feel tingly all over without an accompanying power source. When he puts it on shortly before sunset, it’s like all the energy that was bouncing through his veins starts bouncing along outside of them. The hair on his arms stands on end.

It’s weird, and not pleasant, but David thinks about how insistent the Quartermaster had been at lunch and decides to leave it on as he splits logs and sets up that night’s fire.

They don’t do campfires every night, and (despite David’s fondness for them) they certainly don’t tell spooky stories either; with the full moon, though, he’d been able to convince Gwen that the kids wouldn’t be too scared of the dark to sleep afterwards. He’s excited as he strikes the fire into existence, the sun setting and the night emerging around him. He’s come up with a great idea for a spooky tale with a valuable life lesson folded into it, and although Gwen may be the writer of the two of them, David’s pretty sure he could give her a run for her money with this one.

He whistles as he works, dusting his hands off as the sounds of Gwen leading the kids to the fire echo through the camp. He’s grinning, hands on his hips as he double-checks that everything is ready, when the full moon emerges from behind grey clouds.

David’s gaze is drawn to it with a nearly audible  _ crack  _ of his neck, he turns so fast. It looms over him, painting everything except for his little golden circle of flame a cool silver. The sounds of the forest swell, nearly overwhelming him in their volume and variety, and the woods suddenly seem so much larger and  _ brighter _ , welcoming in a way they haven’t been since before David’s impromptu vacation with Wolfie. 

At the same time, the tingle of the necklace David has stuffed on under his t-shirt ramps up from uncomfortable to nearly painful, like the shock of a hand buzzer. He hisses at the sensation, clawing at where the pendant rests on his chest —

“David?”

A hand touches his shoulder and he whips around, ready to — he’s not sure. Gwen stands there, eyebrows raised and looking unimpressed. He stares at her. The moonlight reflects in her violet eyes as her expression tightens, as she leans closer in concern.

David pulls back with a whimper, because suddenly everything is  _ too much _ . She smells like ink and sweat and her vanilla body wash, the same as always, but the way she looks outlined by the full moon, plus the sounds of the woods and the kids and the crackling fire, the buzz in his blood and the prickling of every hair on his body standing on end…

Something in him is howling, demanding that he  _ bolt _ ,  _ flee _ , that old phrase he read somewhere about the woods calling him and he must  _ go _ —

“Hey,  _ hey _ , it’s okay, it’s just me. You’re okay, we’re okay, and you’re  _ not  _ leaving me to deal with these little brats alone when this whole thing was  _ your idea _ . Breathe with me, alright? In… and out. In… and out. That’s right, David, keep breathing. You’re okay, dumbass. In… and out.”

He’s hunched over, nearly on all fours, and quivering badly when he comes back to himself. His senses return one by one. Vision is the last, and he has to blink a few times and shake his head before he can make out Gwen kneeling next to him, mouth set in the kind of scowl she only wears when she’s worried.

“Sorry,” he gasps. Gwen purses her lips. “Don’t know what happened.”

“It’s fine. We all have those days.” She shifts just enough to press a shoulder into his. The pressure is light, but for David it’s comfortingly grounding. Gwen usually only initiates physical contact when he really needs it; at this point his body instinctually relaxes at her touch, because it knows it’s going to be cared for. He’d be more embarrassed about it if it weren’t so nice. “You still want to do this?”

He takes some deep breaths as the world calms down around him. His skin still buzzes and the necklace feels heavy around his neck, but he pulls himself together enough to aim a pretty good smile at his favorite co-counselor. “Yep! Sorry about that. I’m ready now.”

He pushes himself up but before he can turn back to the kids (and face the moon again), Gwen snags his shirt sleeve. David glances at it, then her.

She’s looking away, so David takes the moment to really  _ look  _ at her, the way that usually makes her defensive and snappish.

Because the thing is that even though Gwen is self-conscious, she’s also  _ beautiful _ . Not just her physical features, though David can’t imagine anyone could deny how compelling she is, with her long legs, soft face, and rare, flashing smile. No, the reason David likes to look at her is because she’s so  _ expressive _ , even when she’s trying to hide it. David knows he can’t keep his feelings off his own face, but understanding Gwen requires paying close attention to everything, from the twitch of a lip to the tiniest crinkle of her eyes.

He’s spent the precious few years she’s worked with him at Camp Campbell cataloguing every microexpression, matching every miniscule movement to what she might be thinking. He probably knows her face as well as he knows his own, and right now as she avoids his eye but holds his sleeve, biting the inside of her lip and failing to completely smooth away the tension in her brow, she’s feeling somewhere between protective and vulnerable.

“You haven’t been back long. You don’t have to —I mean, if you aren’t ready yet…”

The buzz of the moonlight is nothing to the thrill of astonishment, gratitude, and affection that zings through him at that. Feeling like his blood might fizz over at any moment, he grabs her hand and squeezes it in a moment of boldness that has her blinking in surprise.

“Thank you, Gwen,” he says, willing his face to show everything he’s feeling, willing her to understand. “You always know exactly what to say. But I do feel up to it now.  _ And _ I have a great story to tell — I bet you’re going to love it!”

He grins, and she graces him with a twitch of the lips before pulling away and stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Sure,” she says. “Let’s get the marshmallows started before these kids start roasting each other.”

“More like start roasting  _ you _ ,” Nurf calls from over by the fire. “Like, was that a diagnosable panic attack, or are you still avoiding cracking open the DSM-V out of misplaced fear of the ways in which you irrevocably differ from a typical psychological baseline? Haha, burned!”

David misses what Gwen shouts back, because he has to turn to watch her walk back to the firepit and in doing so the full moon comes back into view.

It’s the same moon as ever, it  _ must _ be, but something about it this evening pulls David’s eyes to it, and if his heart wasn’t beating fast before it’s certainly racing now. The forest is loud again, the chain around his neck heavy, and he wants to  _ run _ .

“You coming?”

David tears his gaze away from the moon to see Gwen, her eyebrows raised in amused challenge. The world shrinks down to the two of them, the chattering kids, and the firepit’s circle of warm light. His heartbeat slows.

“Of course,” he says with a genuine smile, and follows her back into the light.

* * *

Later, after they’ve let the kids each splash some water on the dying fire and sent them off to brush their teeth, David allows himself a moment to shudder at both the prickly feeling still running through his veins  _ and  _ Space Kid’s story. Say what you will about the kid’s limited interests, but he certainly knows something about the terror of the familiar becoming strange.

While the kids finish up their evening ablutions, David looks out over Camp Campbell and Lake Lilac, his summer home for much of the last fifteen years. Even though he could probably map every inch of the property with his eyes closed, the place always looks startlingly different when the moon is full. Besides the silvered edges absent in the warmth of the sun, the pale shadows seem to flatten everything — it almost looks like a photograph.

Actually, David’s a bit surprised by how clearly he can see everything from where he’s standing. The flagpole, the cabin, even the lakeside canoes all seem particularly clear in the moonlight — he squints a little bit, and despite the dark of the surrounding woods he swears he can pick out the scurrying of some small creature in the undergrowth.

Something small runs into him with an “oof;” he catches the kid before she can fall on her butt. “Whoops! You alright there, Nerris?”

“Yeah. Thsorry, I didn’t see you —“ Nerris cuts herself off and blinks up at him thoughtfully. “Oh, I thsee you have gained darkvision. It looksth nice on you.”

“Haha, thanks, Nerris!” David replies brightly. He  _ did  _ try to learn about Dungeons and Dragons for her camp, but there were just so many rules — at this point he takes most of what she says as a compliment and hopes for the best. “You’re the last one tonight — want me to walk you to your tent?”

“Nah, I got it. Thankths.” She absently pats his knee in goodbye and heads off. David watches her go and does a last round, double-checking that the fire is out and triple-checking that Max and his friends are down for the night.

As he hops up the steps to the counselor’s cabin, he wonders again about the Quartermaster’s advice at lunch. He’d said some… something, some poetry about change or hiding, before kindly and very normally gifting David his new necklace.

David still feels like he could run all night and have energy left over, and when he holds his arm up to the light he can see all of his hairs standing on end. Weird. The Quartermaster had also warned against wearing the necklace too long, he’s pretty sure — he wonders vaguely about possible side effects.

He steps through the door and the moonlight cuts off, as does about half of his energy. He stops there in the doorway, incredulous, because  _ what _ .

He hovers there for a second. Then, experimentally, David steps back out into the night. The moment the moonlight hits his skin, his blood starts singing again, and the woods surrounding camp rustle with intriguing sounds and —

David crosses the threshold again and lets the door slam with a sharp  _ thwack _ .

His heart is racing again, but at least he’s not faced with the urge to — to —

“David, can you please decide whether you want to be out or in and  _ keep the goddamn door closed _ .”

Gwen, wearing her actual pajamas tonight, scowls at him from her bed where she’s scribbling in one of her notebooks. Her hair is loose, and she’s eyeing David like he’s a particularly dubious Mess Hall dinner option— that is, suspiciously.

“Right,” David hears himself say, “sorry. Right.” Gwen’s eyebrows start to indicate alarm, and David snatches up his own pajamas and flees to the bathroom before she can question him.

He feels better with two doors between him and the exit, until it occurs to him he could probably fit through the bathroom window. Frantically, he draws the curtains, blocking out the outdoors, and leans against the sink.

He feels like he should be pale right now, but the face in the mirror is flushed. He looks a little freaked out, a little manic — reflexively he smiles, but that actually makes it worse.

He starts changing into his pajamas mechanically. The necklace bounces against his chest. What else had the Quartermaster said about it?

_ “Don’t kill anyone.” _

David stills.

But the energy still coursing through him needs to come out somehow, so he starts shivering instead. He pulls his pajama shirt on roughly.

Because that’s  _ absurd _ . Quartermaster’s advice has always been cryptic and strange, but  _ that  _ concept is probably the farthest away from reality of anything David’s ever heard him say.

David squeezes a little too much toothpaste onto his toothbrush, but he starts brushing anyway because a clean smile is a comforting smile. Whatever’s going on, whatever Quartermaster thinks, none of it matters —

Because nothing has changed, and nothing is changing. If the Quartermaster wants him to wear the stupid necklace then, by golly, he’ll keep wearing it. If Gwen is starting to get suspicious about how David’s feeling, then he’ll just have to work harder at being normal and practice better smiles. And if the world feels strange — if the moon seems huge, and the woods loud, and David wants to  _ run  _ —

Well— none of that  _ matters _ . David is just going to keep wearing the stupid necklace til things make sense again. And everything is going to be  _ fine _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: something which could be a panic attack; is fondly called a dumbass during said panic attack; a child mocks him for it.
> 
> 1\. that’s a tough ending, but the good news is that this is the low point for david wrt denying the werewolf problem in this fic!)  
> 2\. Nerris is referring to david’s new tapetum lucidum, a trait in nocturnal mammals which allows them to see in the dark, as well as making their eyes all shiny :) she’s also referencing D&D’s version of nightvision, a trait which happens to be present in every goddamn race in that game. WotC, i know it’s cool and all but spread it out a little guys  
> 3\. the chapter titles all relate to the episode titles. i probably could have done better w this one but counterpoint: it made me laugh
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


	3. Runway Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows episode 4x14 (Fashion Victims). See end notes for content warnings.

“— too much shrimp, Sir!!” Preston shouts with admirable projection for the fifth time that night, and even David has to admit that maybe  _ Forrest Gump 2  _ might be a dud. Still, it’s important to support children’s creative endeavors, and even though the program promised a fashion show David is just glad for a chance to sit back and let the kids focus on something else for a while because he feels  _ so weird _ .

He’s been wearing the silver necklace for over twenty-four hours now. He barely got any sleep, tossing and turning all night at the electric buzzing in his veins, and his day had been spent in a bit of a fugue state similar to that time he tried to compensate for an all-nighter with thirteen shots of espresso. When Gwen reminded him that the Flower Scouts had invited the campers to a fashion show that night, he had nearly wept with relief that he’d be able to just sit and zone out for a little while.

Which, yes, he feels bad about, because Preston is involved and it’s for a good cause, but he’s just  _ exhausted _ and wired and really wants a meatball sub and maybe to rip his shirt off and run screaming through the woods, so. He’s willing to give himself a little bit of a break with this one.

At least, he is until he chances a glance to his left and realizes that  _ Max has escaped _ .

David barely suppresses a groan, because this was the  _ one  _ thing he was trying to avoid. If he could have just kept Max next to him the whole time, his particular brand of mischief-making would be curtailed, and David could have enjoyed sitting quietly for just a little bit.

At least Max had the courtesy of leaving him a note: the post-it stuck to his seat proclaims in messy kid scrawl, “GOING TO MAKE MISCHIEF. IF YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW ME I’LL BE AT THE ELECTRIC METER BOX. MAX.”

_ That’s one upside to my time in the forest _ , David thinks as he scurries along his seat row, bent nearly in half to try not to block the show for those behind him.  _ Max has certainly been more forthcoming about where he’ll be. He must be worried I could get lost again! _

Quietly closing the show doors behind him, David spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye and some part of him insists  _ CHASE _ . Which… yes, because that’s definitely Max, who he was already planning on chasing down to stop him from presumably cutting the electricity to the whole theater.  _ CHASE _ , the voice howls, emphatic.

_ Right,  _ David thinks warily as he breaks into a sprint.  _ Chase and catch. Easy, normal. No reason to be worried about wanting to do that _ .

_ CATCH???  _ demands some part of him with delight, which David immediately decides to disregard. “Max!! The show isn’t over! Please come back here!”

“Fuck off, David!” Max hollers back as he bursts through the front doors. He seems to be holding a pair of heavy-duty wire-clippers that resemble the set from the camp’s toolbox. If nothing else, David can admire Max’s long-term planning.

“Language!!” David admonishes as he hits the front doors and steps into a patch of light from the full moon.

For a moment nothing is different. Then, with an electrifying jolt, the buzzing in his veins intensifies to the point of  _ pain _ . He makes it a few more steps before he collapses in a heap, whimpering — his skin feels like it’s  _ crawling _ , every hair on his body  _ stings _ , for some reason his gums hurt, and the voice in his head is getting louder and louder, demanding he  _ RUN, BITE, SING  _ —

He curls into a ball, digging his nails into his arms, and tries to focus on his breathing. He’s not sure how long he stays there, panting harshly, praying for the pain to resolve, but eventually it cuts off to a nearly-manageable amount. He peeks out from his tight ball of limbs to see that the moon has disappeared behind some cloud cover.

“David?”

He jerks his head up. There’s Max, standing within arm’s reach, peering at him with naked concern on his face. Despite the fact that David still feels wild, better than a minute ago but twice as bad as before he hit moonlight, his Camp Counselor Instincts kick in; he darts out a hand and snags Max’s arm in a firm grip.

“Got you,” he says hoarsely, as Max stares in total disbelief.  _ This might be the coolest I have ever been _ , David muses. Unfortunately, the shocked silence doesn’t last long.

“You  _ tricked  _ me?!  _ You _ !? Fuck that! Fuck  _ you _ ! You can’t do that!! I was  _ worried _ , you goddamn —“

“Aw, Max, you were worried about me?” David teases on autopilot. He carefully shifts his weight, then manages to stand up. A little bit of grey fades into the sides of his vision, but he blinks it away. He’s  _ fine _ .

“ _ No _ !” Max explodes, tugging fruitlessly at David’s hand, but there’s  _ no way _ he’s getting away again, no sir. “I never said that! Don’t tell people I said that! Let me  _ go  _ —“

“Now Max,” David starts as he glances around at their surroundings — they’ve managed to run all the way to the edge of the building, next to a little alcove that does, indeed, house the theater’s electric meter box.  _ Max’s knowledge of these things really is impressive _ , he thinks, as he hoists the boy under an arm like a football. “There’s no need to be ashamed about caring for others.”

Max flails and manages to smack David in the face; he grimaces. “I do  _ not _ care, asshole. Let me  _ go _ , David, this show sucks anyway, I’m trying to do everyone a favor —“

“Max, no! Preston and the Flower Scouts worked very hard on —  _ oof  _ —“

“A- _ ha _ !” Max shouts in triumph as he kicks David in the stomach and maneuvers his arms free. He wields the wire-clippers with a victorious smirk as they pass dangerously close to David’s face. He jerks back in alarm, and they catch on his bandana instead. “Now let me go or I’ll —“

“ _ Max _ ,” David manages in exasperation, when he loses grip on the thrashing boy. There’s a  _ rrrrip _ , then a  _ clnk _ , and then the broken silver necklace hits the ground, his yellow bandana fluttering after it.

David has just enough time to think,  _ whoops _ , before the clouds covering the moon crawl back and he’s forced to drop Max and instinctively crush himself as far away from the moonlight as he can, shoving himself against the little alcove’s wall, but it’s too late.

The buzz in his body escalates, his heart jumps in double-time, every molecule of his body feels  _ wrong _ — he clutches at his suddenly burning arm, clenching his teeth to stop from letting loose a scream. It feels like his bones are  _ breaking _ , his skin  _ burning _ , and he gasps in agony as he falls to all fours. It’s like every ounce of discomfort since he put on the necklace coalesces into a single moment, and he is sure that this is how he dies.

He snarls, trying to hold back the pain, but he can’t stop it — it erupts from him in a  _ howl _ , echoing through the silent town of Sleepy Peak, singularly bone-chilling and inhuman.

He shakes his head, trying to collect himself — something is  _ very _ wrong — he has to get away from here, he needs to go home, he needs to be in the forest — brick walls enclose him on three sides, and the only way out is blocked by a figure, a  _ human _ , keeping him trapped. He growls, a warning, and flashes his sharp teeth at it, because he needs to get out and if it stands in his way then —

“Holy  _ shit _ , what just —  _ David _ ?!”

His ears fall back at that — the voice is familiar. The  _ name  _ is familiar? The figure standing there is small, a child, and it reeks of surprise and fear and maybe old tires. It backs away —  _ good _ , because he will claw and bite his way out, he will fight so he can flee, he will  _ run _ .

“H-hey, stop — don’t — what the  _ fuck  _ —“

_ LANGUAGE _ , some part of him snaps, and he barks at the child.  _ Language _ , some part of him repeats, and the growl in his throat tapers off into a confused whine.  _ Language… _ it says again, and David blinks, because  _ what _ .

What.  _ What _ . Excuse his language, but  _ what the fuck _ .

David stands there on four feet, ears back in alarmed confusion, jaws half-open as he frantically pants, the air too thin. He flexes his fingers, and the paws before him twitch, claws scraping into the dirt. The wind whistles through the street, bringing with it the scent of a small human population and familiar woods beyond that. The fur all over his body stands on end, bristling. This is  _ very wrong _ . This can’t be happening. Is this — is he —

“Are you a  _ werewolf _ ?!” Max demands, incredulous, and David sits down with a hard jolt and weirdly natural ease because  _ is he _ .

“Hey. Hey, uh, David? Are you in there?” David stares at his paws.  _ His  _ paws? This is  _ so weird _ . He doesn’t like this. “ _ Are _ you a werewolf? ...Are you a werewolf who is having a  _ panic attack _ ?”

_ YES _ , David thinks, and shakily lays down on his stomach in the ripped up remains of his camp uniform.  _ I am definitely having a panic attack _ .

“Oh my god. Um, okay. Uh, David? I’m, I’m going to come closer, okay? Please don’t rip my face off.” David stares at his feet — his back paws. He has black paw pads on the bottoms. Oh jeez.

A little hand hesitantly brushes his shoulder (his haunch?) and he twitches. Max flinches back, and David immediately wants to apologize but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a pathetic whine. In the moment it takes Max to collect his courage again and solidly place a hand against his neck, the world closes in on David, everything feeling simultaneously too small and much too lonely.

“Okay. Uh. I gotta say, this is really weird for me.”

David can’t respond — he presses his chin (his muzzle?) to the ground and pants frantically, desperate for air. Max frowns and gingerly pats his neck.

“Uh, so, breathe with me, I guess? Can you do that?”

He doesn’t  _ want  _ Max to have to do this. Children shouldn’t ever,  _ ever  _ feel like they need to be the adult in any situation, especially when it’s  _ for  _ their guardian (as temporary as camp counselor guardianship is), and when they’re probably freaking out too. But the world is loud in sound and scent, his body is the wrong shape and size, and there’s something exceedingly calming about having the familiar child there, tentatively running a hand through the fur on his back.

_ PACK _ , says the voice in the back of his head. David figures that’s not too far off, and the agreement between the two disparate voices in his head makes the world around him calm enough that he starts to feel more like a person.

A person who can’t think about the phrasing of that particular sentence without freaking out again but, well. Baby steps.

Speaking of, David pushes himself up on four feet and takes a few steps this way and that, testing his balance, because whatever is happening to him he can’t just lay on the ground forever. He can handle this. Everything is going to be  _ fine _ .

Max, released from his duty of bringing David back to his usual, responsible self, sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets and watches him.

“So, like. Did you  _ know  _ you were a werewolf?”

David shakes his head no and mournfully paws at his destroyed camp shorts; this is  _ absurd _ . They were his favorite pair.

“Wow. Uh, did the necklace have something to do with you  _ not  _ being all wolf-y?” 

The pendant glints innocently in the light from the streetlamps, its silver chain snipped neatly in two. David shrugs, as much as he’s able to, but Max seems to get it.

“Well, um. I mean, if I had known, then I wouldn’t have broken it, so. Uh. Yeah.”

In surprise, David glances over at Max, who is kicking the ground and refusing to make eye contact.  _ That was nearly an apology _ . David huffs a breath through his nose and, finding he has no hands with which to ruffle Max’s hair, very gently butts his head against the boy’s shoulder.

Max scowls and swats at him, but his frown isn’t so deep anymore so David counts it as a win. He lets his tongue loll out a little in victory, which has the boy rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright, enough touchy-feely stuff. Can you change back?”

Now that's a question. David looks up at the sky, but though the moon has once more disappeared behind some cloud cover, he doesn’t feel anything like he could turn into a person again. At least the fizzing feeling the necklace had given him is gone, apparently burned away in his transformation. Experimentally, he touches a paw to the necklace — only to jerk back with a yelp when it  _ burns  _ to touch.

“It’s probably made from silver,” Max notes, which, yes, thank you, David has already figured out. He sulkily licks at his paw as Max scoops up the necklace and sticks it in his pocket, then starts searching through the remains of David's clothes. “Okay, this stuff is wrecked, but your phone looks fine so I’m taking it.”

David nudges his bandana with his nose; Max sighs exasperatedly, but sticks that in his hoodie pocket too. David’s ear twitches at the  _ k-chk  _ of a door opening, and he peeks around the corner to see folks starting to exit the theater. The show must be over.

“No wolves on the bus,” decrees the Quartermaster out of  _ nowhere _ , and David and Max simultaneously yelp.  _ How does he  _ do _ that _ , David wonders, his heart beating in his ears, before he processes what was said. He opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a sad little whine.

“What do you expect him to do, run home?” Max demands, and the Quartermaster looks upon him silently. Max’s face scrunches up. “He might look like a wolf, but he's still an idiot. You can’t do this, he’ll get lost or something.”

“No wolves on the bus,” the Quartermaster repeats, and ambles off to get the vehicle started as the rest of Camp Campbell’s campers exit the building.

Max scowls fiercely and grabs at David’s muzzle, holding it in his tiny hands and forcing him to maintain eye contact. It occurs to David that he could easily fit Max’s hands in his mouth of sharp teeth — in fact, he could probably fit his whole head in there if he wanted. David keeps his mouth carefully shut and obediently listens to what his camper has to say.

“Okay, you’ll probably turn back in the morning, so we can deal with this then. In the meantime, follow the bus back and  _ don’t _ do anything stupid.  _ Got it _ , David?”

David lets out as much of a “woof” as he can without opening his mouth. Max rolls his eyes and shoves his face away. “Alright. Me and the Quartermaster will cover for you til then. Don’t get caught.”

He gives David one last once-over, which makes David pretty curious about what he might look like, then groans and trots off to join the other campers.

David watches him go, then catches sight of Gwen catching sight of Max. She scowls and crosses her arms. “And where the hell were you? What did you do to David?”

“Relax, I didn’t do anything to him. He had something to do, said he’d catch up.”

David resists the urge to put a paw over his face, because Gwen is obviously smarter than that; he can see her narrowing her eyes from here. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

Max scowls at her, and David can practically see the storm brewing between them as the other campers obediently file onto the bus. He’s just about to step out from his hiding place in the alcove and try to — explain, somehow, when the Quartermaster leans out and speaks.

“He’s chasing tail.”

There’s a beat. Then:  _ WHAT _ , David thinks in horror, as Gwen dangerously hisses, “ _ What _ .”

The Quartermaster shrugs. Max clears his throat. “Well, I’m just a kid, so what do I know... but he’s right,” he says, and David presses his face to the ground with a whine because _no, no, nooo_. He would _never_ abandon Gwen to the kids for some random fling, and he _definitely_ doesn’t want _Gwen_ to think he’s that kind of guy. His muzzle feels hot, like all the blood has rushed to his face, and his tail tucks under his tummy —

Then he has to stop everything because does he have a  _ tail _ ? A few quick circles to try to see verifies it — it’s fluffy and tantalizingly out of reach. 

_ That’s fine!  _ David tells himself, definitely not feeling exceedingly brittle.  _ That’s totally fine! A tail is a normal thing for a wolf to have, so that’s definitely okay. _

He’s starting to feel shaky again, but then he hears Gwen’s quiet, “He left me alone with all these campers for  _ that _ ,” and David refocuses.

Gwen stands stiffly at the doors to the bus, her hands in fists. Immediately, David is flooded with guilt — he didn’t mean to leave her alone with the kids, but the fact remains that he  _ did _ . His tail brushes the ground and his ears fall back. She’s already dealt with two weeks of his absence; it’s not fair that she has to deal with more.

Finally, Gwen steps onto the bus and the doors close behind her. The engine revs, and it speeds off down the street.

Cautiously, David pokes his head out. The streets are clear.

He pads out after the bus, trying not to watch his feet, trying to feel like everything is fine and normal. The moon is back out, lighting the way; everything looks crisp and bright. He takes a deep breath, smelling a thousand new and interesting scents that call to him, urging him off the road and into the woods.

But David thinks hard about Camp Campbell, and Gwen alone, and Max and all the rest of the kids. He stretches out his legs, paws reaching just a little farther with each step, and keeps them at the front of his mind as he starts to run after the bus.

He stays focused the entire time — but the run is still shockingly invigorating, and he kind of loses track of the rest of it, and when the bus finally stops at Camp Campbell, for the first time ever it’s David who hits the bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: irresponsible use of sharp objects near the face; brief but painful transformation; dissociative episode; accompanying panic attack.
> 
> 1\. in the show they LITERALLY have the full moon come out followed by a wolf howling. i’m just saying this fic wanted to be written ok  
> 2\. yes he was literally chasing tail ohoho my sense of humor is so refined  
> 3\. this chapter and the 5th one are the most max-centric of the lot. i figured that might be enough for the tag, but if not lmk!  
> 4\. stop hitting david with the bus. start hitting the bus w david
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


	4. Party Pooped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows episode 4x15 (Party Pooper). See end notes for content warnings.

“--ouch!” David gasps, blearily whipping a hand out in self-defense. Is he being attacked? He was asleep, and then  _ everything  _ hurt, sudden and sharp. A stick jabs into his side and he grabs it, brandishing it as he blinks rapidly and tries to wake up enough to understand what’s happening.

He’s totally alone. “Mweh?” David asks, lowering his stick. He’s not in bed -- in fact, he’s not even inside. The outside wall of the Counselors Cabin is at his back, the woods before him. He’s also naked.

David squeaks and tries to cover himself. Did Max and his friends somehow do this? It’d be just like them, and he’ll have to give them a stern talking-to about boundaries and… and…

Oh. Right.

He lets his head fall back and hit the wall with a  _ thunk _ . He’s outside because he’d fallen asleep out here, after spending most of the night running around sticking his big nose into animal burrows and garbage cans, too curious for his own good about his suddenly improved sense of smell. He’s naked because his clothing had been pretty much destroyed during his transformation from normal, everyday camp counselor to  _ actual wolf _ .

Because apparently he’s — 

David puts his face in his hands for a second, breathing as slowly and mindfully as he can around the panic building in his chest.

The sun has just peeked over the horizon, filtering through the trees and warming the world up with a rosy glow. Birds are singing in the woods; the world is waking up. It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day.

And anyways, he  _ changed back _ . Maybe he could have been stuck as a wolf forever! All things considered, this isn’t too bad an outcome. Really, even if this happens again — even if he’s actually a, well, it seems ridiculous to say it — once a month isn’t too bad. He can handle this.

David flexes his hands, appreciating the fact that he has thumbs, even if his fingernails are so long and gnarly right now that they’re practically claws — he cuts off that line of thinking as quickly as he can. Maybe it’s better to focus his gratitude on something else.

It takes a little bit, but eventually he forces himself to his feet and peeks through the tiny window on this side of the cabin. Gwen is rarely up this early, but he still breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that the bathroom is empty. The latch for this window has been broken since last summer, and as he shimmies through the little window David finds himself extremely grateful that fixing it ended up so far down on his to-do list.

Then his foot catches on the edge of the windowsill and he crashes in a heap on the tile floor with a yelp. He freezes where he is, listening -- when there’s no sound of movement on the other side of the door, he lets himself relax a little. Gwen can sleep through anything --  _ and she deserves to _ ! he reminds himself as he slides the lock home with a little  _ snck _ .  _ She practically keeps this place running herself, and she had to put all the kids to bed last night without help _ .

He really owes her for that. Even if he hadn’t meant to abandon her, he had. And then Max and the Quartermaster had implied he’d done so to -- to --

David groans quietly, feeling his ears heat up. He’s going to  _ really  _ need to make it up to her. Maybe he can find some way to keep the kids out of her hair today?

Finally, David catches sight of his reflection in the mirror. “Ah. That’s… not the best,” he whispers, running a hand through the full beard that had apparently grown overnight. His long fingernails scratch his face, even with the beard in the way, and he grimaces. Is this going to happen every time he transforms from now on? ...Should he invest in an electric razor?

With a sigh, David pulls out his dopp kit and gets to work clipping and shaving everything away. It takes longer than he’d prefer, but at least afterwards he looks and feels more like himself. He yawns as he squeezes out some toothpaste -- and then slowly opens his mouth again, leaning into the mirror.

His teeth are… different. “That’s… Those are…” He pokes at one of his canines, feeling maybe just a little bit horrified. “Hm. Yikes.”

While they may not quite be  _ fangs _ , his teeth are certainly longer and sharper than they were before. His back molars seem to have stayed much the same, but when he flashes a perfectly executed exercise smile at his reflection the inhuman  _ sharpness  _ of his front teeth are definitely noticeable.

_ But maybe  _ no one _ will notice!  _ he hopes, and starts brushing his teeth anyway (because a clean smile is a comforting smile, even if that smile also happens to be sharper than it’s supposed to be).

He stretches out in the shower, since apparently running around for half the night with different muscles makes one sore the next day. He feels a little stupid about that, actually, because it’s been days now since he’s gotten a full night of sleep, and even though he’d had the chance last night he’d let himself be distracted by the sounds and smells of the woods around Camp Campbell.

David wraps a towel around himself with a yawn. He supposes it could have been worse -- he had, after all, stayed within sight of the camp, despite his new instincts (and isn’t  _ that  _ weird to think about) insisting he travel farther. He hadn’t even peed on anything to mark the camp’s boundaries.

_ Is that something I’m going to be proud of myself for now?  _ David wonders, frowning. He unlatches the door, stepping out into the cabin proper -- and right into Gwen, whose face is set in a baleful glare.

On instinct, David screams, and he maybe falls over his own feet a little bit while trying to get away. “O-oh! Gwen! Um, g-good morning!”

She hasn’t moved, except to narrow her eyes at him.  _ TROUBLE _ , a distinctly wolfish part of him yelps, which, yes, is a fair observation.  _ Good job, wolf-brain. _

He tries a big smile, remembers his teeth are sharp, and drops it immediately, biting his lip. She’s just  _ looking _ at him and he already wants to drop to his knees and grovel for her forgiveness.

_ BAD DOG? _ the wolf whimpers.  _ Please be quiet _ , David replies, as he waits for his death. He hopes she makes it fast, and that it doesn’t involve his guitar -- he’s only just restrung it.

Finally, Gwen steps to the side, crossing her arms like it’s just more comfortable that way. Her eyes flick over him with practiced nonchalance, and her voice is steady and casual. “Didn’t see you get in last night.”

_ Oh, I really am in trouble _ , David realizes. “Gwen,” he tries, “I really am so sorry --”

“Save it,” she says, and David snaps his mouth shut. She puts a hand on his shoulder -- and part of David wants to melt into it, because it’s Gwen, and just being touched by her makes him feel better -- but she shoves him into the cabin proper and takes his place in the bathroom. She doesn’t even look at him. “Hope  _ your _ night was good, anyway.”

She doesn’t slam the door, just shuts it neatly behind her.

David stands there for a long moment, guilt squeezing his heart. Death by guitar would have been a mercy compared to this.

Eventually, he realizes time is ticking and he has to get dressed for the day. A glance at the calendar reminds him that tonight is the final night of the full moon -- at least this will all be over soon.

* * *

“ _ Every night _ ?!” David cries, dismayed.

Quartermaster snorts affirmatively, plopping some Mystery Breakfast onto Erid’s tray. She makes a face, but heads off to sit down and get her nutrition anyway.

“Moonlight touches skin, wolf til sunlight,” the Quartermaster repeats. “Such is the curse and the blessing.”

“But I have  _ camp _ ,” David protests. “I can’t keep abandoning Gwen, she’ll kill me! ...and it’s not fair to her,” he adds. QM shrugs and David slumps like someone cut his strings.  _ Every  _ night?

“Wow, so maybe you’re  _ not _ handling this well,” comes a dry voice, and David looks up to see Max, his tray listing carelessly to the side. Quartermaster dollops some Mystery Breakfast on it anyway, and Max scowls at having to right his balance. “What, having trouble dealing with turning into a huge scary wolf during the full moons, Camp Man?”

“Every night,” the Quartermaster corrects, and Max whistles appreciatively.

“Wow, that does suck,” he proclaims, as David groans into his hands. He’s too tired to deal with any of this. “Gwen is going to kill you.”

“I know!” David bursts out. “What am I going to  _ tell  _ her? I can’t just leave her to deal with you kids alone every time I have to go -- go --”

It occurs to him, belatedly, that he is complaining about campers directly to a camper’s face, and he groans again, scrubbing at his eyes. “Sorry, Max, I didn’t mean that. I just feel bad about putting  _ more  _ work on Gwen, when she already works so hard.”

“Right,” Max says, eyebrow raised. Then he shifts his weight and digs something out of his pocket, dangling it from his fingers. “Well, this might help. I used Neil’s science bullshit to fix the chain this morning.”

“The necklace!” David gasps, hope flooding through him. “Oh, Max, thank you so much!” He takes it, and a low-level buzz immediately starts in his hands. He stuffs it into his shorts pocket and it cuts off, to his relief. “That will make things much easier! Now I just need to figure out how to make up for last night.”

“Mhmm. By the way, I figured I’d let you know that I’m telling Neil and Nikki about your furry little problem,” Max says casually, and the hope freezes in David’s veins. He opens his mouth to protest, but Max holds a hand out to stop him. “Nope, I’ve already decided. I’m telling them today unless something awesome and amazing happens that distracts me.  _ And _ I’m keeping your phone.”

“Max—” David starts, but just then Space Kid waddles up to them.

“Mission Control, I am experiencing issues with my astronaut food,” says Space Kid as David watches Max escape. “Permission to remove my helmet?”

David sighs, just as Gwen enters the Mess Hall. She doesn’t even look at him, scanning the tables and counting the kids, and David’s miserable heart shrivels up a little more. Somehow things keep getting worse.

But he can handle this. He always does.

Setting his jaw, David pastes on a slight smile (not too many teeth!) and goes about helping Space Kid. At least he can do that for her.

But what can he do to make sure the kids stay out of Gwen’s way for the rest of the day?

* * *

The thing is, David  _ really  _ thought that Gwen’s dad arriving was going to be a good thing for everyone.

For one thing, it let Gwen stay inside and away from the kids for the day. It sounded like she’d have to do a little more paperwork, yes, but David was sure she’d speed through it -- she could manage in an hour what took him a full day, after all.

Plus, the kids really  _ like  _ her dad! That gives David the chance to steal a much-needed nap during lunch, and while he  _ is _ woken up mid-sleep cycle by Nurf punting Dolph directly into his gut, some sleep is surely better than nearly none. It also gives him just enough of an energy boost to start scratching away at an old idea about the Camp Campbell Escape Room Initiative, one that he's sure he can twist into something Gwen would appreciate.

Gwen’s dog serves as something “awesome and amazing” enough to keep Max from telling Neil and Nikki about David’s nightly problem. And, yeah, maybe he has a  _ little _ bit of an issue with the wolfish instincts meeting a dog, but he is  _ dealing with it _ . The fact that he’s had “Better Than You” stuck in his head all day is  _ not relevant _ .

_ Am I not cute?  _ David wonders, gnawing at his pencil.  _ Am I scary as a wolf? I could probably learn how to do a flip _ .

That’s blatantly untrue, actually, and David rubs at his tired eyes. The concert is supposed to be starting any minute, and the sun is setting -- he’d kind of hoped he might be able to slip away during the show so he wouldn’t have to wear the necklace tonight, given that the buzzing energy it keeps on the surface of his skin is not conducive to sleeping. 

He’s been trying to give Gwen space since their unpleasant morning, but time is passing and Harrison can only stall for so long.  _ Upbeat attitude! Apologetic smile! You’ve got this, David! _ he tells himself as he heads backstage and gently interrupts her conversation with her dad.

Gwen whips on him with a snarl and glare that has David’s human brain taking a backseat. He  _ yipes _ and scrambles away, heart beating rapidly, his brain howling  _ BAD DOG BAD DOG BAD DOG _ . He’s literally halfway across the Activities Field with his metaphorical tail between his legs before he manages to get a hold of himself and slow down, panting.

He hides for a minute behind Nerris’s castle, trying to wrestle his own instincts into submission. He hasn’t seen Gwen that angry in  _ weeks _ . What did he do that was bad enough to deserve that? He cautiously peeks around the cardboard wall, just in time to see Gwen heading down to the dock, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

David’s heart sinks -- he recognizes the downturned face and slumped shoulders from some of her worst days.  _ She’s just as exhausted as I am _ , he realizes. Maybe not physically, but her trudging steps suggest the weight of the world on her back.

He groans, sinking down into a squat, but there’s nothing for it. He’s been putting so much on Gwen lately that half that weight is probably thanks to him -- the least he can do is tough out a little discomfort so she can have some proper time to herself.

The silver necklace buzzes when he drops it around his neck, but David feels more clear-headed than he has all day. He heads back to the concert with a determined pep in his step.

* * *

David passes the last of Harrison’s trick tomatoes to the Quartermaster and bids the man a good night. The concert stage is as clean as it’s going to get, the kids are all in their tents, and Gwen’s still out with her dad. He whistles the camp song as he clicks the light on in the Counselors Cabin.

He could try getting to sleep with the necklace on, but he’s already seen how poorly that goes. He could try just avoiding the moonlight, but they do have a lot of windows --  _ and  _ a lot of random cracks and holes in the old walls. He’d probably end up transforming by accident in the middle of the night and get a guitar to his head for his trouble.

So David scratches out an apologetic note about spending the night preparing for a new camp activity and leaves it on Gwen’s pillow. Then, since there’s no sense in wrecking any more of his clothes -- especially if this is going to be a nightly thing -- he strips and wraps himself in a bedsheet before sneaking out the backdoor. A ways into the woods, he takes a deep breath and removes the necklace.

_ At least the transformation happens quickly _ , David thinks, scrunching his nose at the last lingering pains. The forest calls to him, but he’s planning on spending the next eight hours getting some solid sleep. As he stretches and shakes out his fur, he idly wonders if he might be adapting to this  _ too  _ well before trotting back towards camp.

“--your red-headed co-counselor?” David catches from over by the flagpole, and finds himself automatically swerving towards it. He pauses behind the painted hippie van, realizing belatedly that he probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping on a private conversation between his coworker and her family member.  _ Bad David _ , he thinks, a little wryly, and turns to go.

“He’s been kind of an asshole lately,” Gwen admits, and David winces. He deserves that, but still: ouch. “For a while, I almost thought he  _ got  _ it, but… I guess I was wrong.”

David feels his ears flatten guiltily. He’s going to have to make sure her surprise goes  _ really well _ .

“Have you tried talking to him about it? He seems like he means well, Gwendrop. He might just be stupid.”

“Oh, he is,” Gwen replies immediately, which has David huffing in offense, because  _ hey _ . “And I will, I just… haven’t had the time yet.”

There’s a shifting of fabric; David guesses her dad’s hugging her. “Well, you’ve got great instincts, Time-and-a-Gwen. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

David’s tail gives a little involuntary wag, and he remembers his manners. He leaves them for the patch of grass behind the Counselors Cabin (though he’s strongly tempted to turn back when he hears Gwen’s dad say something about “grandkids” and her accompanying protest).

Instead, he curls up and plots. When David finally drifts off, the last thing on his mind is how Gwen looks when she smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: maybe none? eavesdropping? lmk.
> 
> 1\. i was so confused about how careless david was in this ep, i couldn’t figure it out! but now we all know it’s bc he was secretly a sleep-deprived werewolf the whole time >:3  
> 2\. i know gwen and her dad agreed to no more cutesy nicknames, but imo they also immediately forgot.
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


	5. Escape Mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows episode 4x16 (Panicked Room). See end notes for content warnings.

The sound of clumsy steps gets David’s attention, and he turns just in time to get a bright white flash directly to the retinas. He makes a pathetic noise and paws at his face as Max snickers. “See? Told you.”

“Is that a  _ wolf _ ?!” Neil squawks, and Nikki shrieks in wordless, animal delight.

_ You agreed to this _ , David reminds himself. Of course, he’d also expected that Max wouldn’t be able to rouse his friends before sunrise, but he supposes that being surprised by his campers really shouldn’t surprise him anymore.

Nikki immediately leaps on his back, chattering wildly, while Neil stays at a healthy distance, frantically calling her back. Max pretends to ignore his friends and saunters up to David, smirking and tapping at David’s own phone. “David, try to look cool. Nikki, smile.”

David pouts as well as he can as Max snaps another blinding, flash-assisted photo. “Not bad. Neil, get over here.”

“Are you kidding me?! No way, that thing probably has rabies!”

“The only disease David has is a brain parasite that makes him think this camp isn’t a piece of shit,” Max says easily. David growls low in his chest; Max rolls his eyes. “Fine, a piece of  _ crap _ ,” he corrects, which is honestly better than David usually gets. “Seriously, Neil, the sun will be up soon. Let’s just take the picture and then you can do your science stuff and get the Nobel Prize for finding a new species or whatever.”

“David!” Nikki’s got her legs wrapped around his neck and leans upside-down to make eye contact, grinning hugely. “If you’re really a werewolf you need to bite me! We can run through the woods together!!”

David keeps his mouth shut tight as it occurs to him that he  _ really  _ shouldn’t have agreed to this. As thrilled as he is about Max’s promise to participate in every single one of the next week’s camps ( _ and  _ stop intentionally causing fires for the rest of the summer), he now wishes he had thought to push this off until Max had actually  _ done _ it.

Still, a promise is a promise; in the grey light between dawn and sunrise, David keeps his side of the deal and allows Max to snap as many pictures as he wants of him and his friends hanging out with a real life (were)wolf. 

(David will deny it if anyone ever asks, but he ends up getting a little into the play-acting: several of the pictures feature him playing convincingly dead as Nikki faux-sobs over his body, and after Neil gets over the most of his nerves there’s an interesting picture of David with his mouth wide open, the boy examining his dental formation with curiosity.)

But the sun will soon be up, and David has the finishing touches to put on his project for Gwen. He has to shake Nikki off to get free, but he manages to snag his bedsheet in time to get it mostly around himself before the sunlight hits him.

“Oww,” he whines, once he’s got a human form again, because radically changing his shape and species  _ hurts _ . He shifts his sheet, making sure he’s covered up, and starts to stand. “Okay, kids, remember that you agreed not to tell anyone else, and to leave Gwen alone for the next --  _ oof  _ \--”

Nikki bowls him completely over, laughing maniacally, as Neil shrieks, “Wait, that was  _ seriously David _ ?!”

_ STUPID _ , the wolf voice chides him. For once, David agrees.

* * *

“-- a scientific  _ marvel _ , not to mention the potential ramifications for quantum physics, because he  _ definitely  _ increased in mass -- David, what does it  _ feel  _ like? Would you say you’re tapping into a version of yourself from an alternate dimension, or is it more like you’re spreading your molecules in a thin enough lattice to mimic the appearance of a larger size? You know what, nevermind, I’ve already got a pretty solid theory.”

“That’s great, Neil, and I’m happy you’ve found such an interesting vein of research,” David says, injecting as much positivity as he can into his voice, “but it wouldn’t be fair for me to spend all day helping just  _ one _ camper with their camp, so… could you let me go? Please?”

Neil laughs, clearly delighted, and David’s smile slips a little bit. “Release my most valuable specimen? At this crucial juncture in my studies? Oh, David, you must be joking!”

“I’ll let you go if you give me The Bite,” Nikki whispers.

“I’ll let you go if you let me set the Counselors Cabin on fire,” Max offers.

“Now, Max, you  _ promised _ ,” David frowns. The ropes are starting to chafe, but he  _ is _ pleasantly surprised that Neil was paying such close attention in Knot-Tying Camp. The boy is mumbling to himself, frantically scribbling down results as he measures David with various implements, wooden and otherwise. At least the trio had let him go long enough to get dressed and make sure the other campers had breakfast. “Neil, I really do have other things I need to do todAY YEE _ -owch _ , NIKKI,  _ OW _ \--” 

“Don’t think The Bite works in reverse, Nik,” Max says with artful apathy. Nikki growls from where her teeth are clamped around David’s bare leg. 

“Oh, did you guys trap David? I’ve been working on an escape trick with ropes just like that --”

“Fuck OFF, Harrison -- David, here’s a question. Approximately what color would you call your -- I said  _ fuck off,  _ Harrison -- your fur?”

“Greyish-brown, maybe?” David ekes out between his clenched teeth; he thinks Nikki may be trying to draw blood. “Nikki,  _ please _ \--”

“What?” Max scoffs, already pulling out David’s phone, as Neil  _ hmm _ s in fascination and scribbles on his clipboard. “Are you blind? You’re red, just like your hair -- look --”

He shoves David’s own phone in his face, and indeed through the tears David can see the photo’s wolf-shaped blob is maroon-red, its eyes a luminous green from the flash. “Wait, am I color-blind when I’m -- ?”

“That does seem to be the case,” Neil murmurs, thoughtful. “Human and canine biology differ in a number of significant ways, including skeletal -- I wonder -- David, are you familiar with the baculum?”

“UM,” says David, just as he hears a distant, whispered “abracadabra,” and the ropes keeping him bound loosen -- he snatches his phone from Max and leaps to his feet, trying to shake Nikki as he goes. “SORRY NEIL AS MUCH AS I’D LOVE TO HELP I HAVE TO -- GO OVER THERE --”

As he flees, he mouths a silent “thank you” to Harrison, who waves him off genially just as Neil catapults himself at him, screaming about “SCIENTIFIC INTEGRITY, YOU WHORE --”

After ten minutes of hiding in the Counselors Cabin and catching his breath, David feels confident enough to dial the Flower Scouts and leave a message about a new “wine-based diet fad, ideal for adult women and definitely not for children but if you’re an adult woman this afternoon is the scientifically-proven best time to drink your weight in wine! Especially if it’s stolen! Okay, thank you, once again this diet is not for children but is great for Garden Mothers, have a wonderful day!”

Oh, yeah. It’s all coming together.

* * *

The last puzzle piece arrives during lunch. While Mr. Campbell suspiciously examines the Quartermaster’s latest concoction, David sidles up beside him.  _ This has to go off without a hitch _ .

“So! Mr. Campbell, I wanted to talk to you about the camp you’re running this afternoon,” David says, keeping him in the corner of his eye. Mr. Campbell grunts. “You know, the Being a Caring Parental Figure Camp? I thought you’d be just perfect to lead it today!”

Mr. Campbell stiffens, and David has to bite his tongue before he can get out the next bit -- he doesn’t like to lie, but this is  _ for Gwen _ . “I mean, unless you think we should run the Cyber Warfare Camp instead? It’s just, I left my copy of the book at home. You don’t happen to have a copy in your summer home, do you?”

At that, Mr. Campbell lays a heavy hand on David’s shoulder --  _ success _ . “You know, David, I just might,” he says. “I’ll run right over after lunch and pick it up so that  _ you  _ can run that camp, alright? I would hate to step on your toes, after all.”

David can’t help the huge grin that crosses his face, sharp teeth or not. “Well, gee, Mr. Campbell, thanks so much!” At that Mr. Campbell does pale a little bit, mumbles something, and then goes to sit on the very opposite side of the Mess Hall.

David barely resists the urge to bounce in place as he gets his own lunch and strides to the counselors’ table, automatically swerving around Max and his friends, who are whispering to each other in a way that he’s learned to avoid. He sets his tray beside Gwen’s with a flourish. “So, I know you didn’t want to run this afternoons’ camps,” he starts, when Nikki takes a running leap onto their table.

She furiously barks and snarls at him, and David has no idea what her howling's about, but the wolf in him so suddenly insists  _ GIVE HER THE FRUIT CUP _ that he just automatically hands it over. Nikki snatches it from him with a dimpled smile and a “thanks, David!” then hops down to return to her friends, where Max is cracking up and Neil is frantically scribbling on his clipboard.

David blinks a few times, trying to catch up. “...um?”

“Honestly, that was probably the right move,” Gwen says.

“Right,” David says. That was… worryingly compelling, but he shakes his head and refocuses. “Right. So, this afternoon’s camps --”

“I’ve got it covered, David,” Gwen says, stabbing her fork at a purple potentially-a-vegetable with unnecessary viciousness. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“No, it’s not that,” David blurts out, and Gwen raises an eyebrow and actually  _ looks _ at him, which startles him so much that he loses his train of thought for a moment -- it’s only been a day or two and somehow he’d forgotten how intense her eyes are, how she can see through him with just a glance.  _ BEG FORGIVENESS _ , the wolf suggests.

_ How? _ David asks it.

_ SHOW SOFT PARTS AND CUDDLE _ , it replies, and David decides not to ask it for advice about Gwen again. Speaking of, she’s starting to narrow her eyes at him — David makes an effort to yank himself back into the present.

“Um,” he says, fumbling. “I. Made. Different plans?”

Her eyes narrow. “You  _ what _ .”

“Y-you won’t have to do anything!” he promises. “We just have to take the kids somewhere, I’ll keep them entertained, and it -- it’s a -- it’s a surprise?” He winces.

Gwen pins him with her gaze but he manages (barely) to maintain eye contact, bouncing his leg.  _ Come on, please _ . “David,” Gwen says warningly, and David frantically pulls out his last hope and grabs her hand.

“I know I haven’t been the best CBFL lately, Gwen, and I’m really sorry, but I’m also trying to  _ make up for that _ . Even if my plan doesn’t go well I promise it will  _ still  _ be less work for you than running this afternoon’s camps. And I really think it will go well, Gwen, so --” and he pouts, looking up at her through his eyelashes, eyes watering “--  _ please _ ?”

She hisses -- they have a  _ rule  _ about him intentionally using his puppy dog eyes -- does the new wolfiness help at all, he wonders? — and rips her hand away from his, shoving herself to her feet. “Okay okay okay  _ fine _ .” His heart soars in triumph, even as she snatches up her tray and starts to stalk away -- she always needs space after he does something like that. “But David -- if this goes poorly, you and I are going to have  _ a Talk _ .”

By her phrasing, David’s pretty sure that means that if it goes well then they  _ won’t  _ need to have a Talk. This sounds pretty good to him, so he gives her the camp salute and gets back to working out the finishing touches; he’s got a great British accent he’s sure he can find a way to use…

* * *

The thing about Gwen is she doesn’t like having the things she wants just  _ given  _ to her. It makes her suspicious, like someone’s going to try to pull a fast one as soon as she lets her guard down. So to make this work, David has to meticulously set the scene, make sure he’s covered his tracks, and then step back and let Gwen spring the trap herself without any suggestion that he had anything to do with it.

And then David doesn’t even get to finish his neat little summary of the relevant Sleepy Peak drama before Gwen propels him out the door and shuts it behind him with a greedy little  _ chk _ .

David’s been told (by Gwen) that smugness if not a good look on him, but, well. She even took the popcorn he’d left on the side table.

“So you’re trying to make up for bailing on Gwen because of werewolf stuff?” asks Max.

“Now, Max, you promised to be quiet about that,” David reminds him, voice low, but the rest of the campers are focused on creating plans for their own escape rooms (and it doesn’t hurt that he’d bribed them with pudding cups to hush up for the next twenty minutes).

“I  _ am  _ being quiet. Neil and Nikki will, too.”

“Right, sorry. I do believe you,” David says, because he’s spent the whole summer getting to know these kids, and he does trust them. “Thanks, Max.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, scraping at his pudding cup. A companionable silence falls over them. “I did have a question about it, though. Since you seem to trust that a bunch of stupid kids won’t blab about your secret.”

“What question is that, Max?”

The boy turns to him, looking bored and a little annoyed. “Why not just  _ tell  _ her?”

David opens his mouth to reply, and then ends up staring at Max with his jaw hanging open instead.  _ Why not just tell her _ .

“Just saying,” Max snorts, and trots back to his friends, leaving David to stand there in stunned silence.

Why  _ not _ just tell her?

* * *

They get back late, and while things didn’t go  _ quite  _ as planned, and David  _ did _ end up seeing some aspects of Mr. Campbell that he wishes he hadn’t, neither that nor the irritation from the necklace under David’s shirt phase him. He practically trips over his own feet on the way into their cabin because he’s just so distracted by the idea of  _ telling Gwen _ .

Because really, why shouldn’t he? She’s the one most affected by it, besides David himself. She’s not only smart enough to keep it a secret, but she could probably also help him figure things out about it that he couldn’t on his own. Plus he’s seen some of her books -- she’s read  _ all about _ werewolves. Really, she’s the ideal person.

David unlaces his shoes and surreptitiously watches her as she gets ready for bed. She looks a lot better than she did the other day -- her back is straight, she’s not dragging her feet, and he could swear he hears her humming while she brushes her teeth. He can’t help smiling himself as she comes out of the bathroom, smelling of her vanilla body wash and minty toothpaste.

“What are you smiling about?” she asks, lips curved in her own little smile, and David can’t help when his grin grows in response.

“Nothing,” he says, and then, seized by the desire to be honest, “you. You seem happy.”

Gwen sniffs in faux dismissal. “Me, happy?  _ Here _ ? Get real, David.” She throws herself down on the cabin’s only armchair, tossing her legs up on its arms. “I was gonna write a little bit, but if you want we could put on some Rob Boss in the background?” She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, hopeful.

David bites his lip, but the necklace is stinging under his shirt. “I would, but I…”

“Ah. You’re going out.” She puts her legs down, sitting normally in the armchair, and calmly opens to a fresh page in her notebook.

“Yeah,” David says, feeling the warmth of the previous moment drain out of the room. Gwen uncaps her pen and keeps her eyes down, like today never happened, like David hadn’t spent the past twenty-four hours trying to set up something nice just for her.

Sometimes she’s just so  _ unfair _ .

She doesn’t say anything else, so David doesn’t either. He puts his shoes back on and fiddles with his keys for a moment, before he has to leave so he can go through an unwilling, painful transformation and then sleep in the dirt.

“I can keep a secret, you know,” Gwen says. David glances back at her, but she doesn’t look up.

“...I know,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning, Gwen.”

She does look up at that -- David catches just a glimpse of her narrowed, violet eyes before the door shuts with a sharp  _ thwack _ .

_ I’ll tell her tomorrow _ , David decides, as he heads into the forest.

But he can’t stop thinking about that last look, and he can’t shake the feeling that he may have somehow stepped into a trap of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: none, i think? if there should be one please lmk.
> 
> 1\. i meant to post this last week but got distracted by existential uncertainty and Dudley Dursley (ah, that adhd life).  
> 2\. in the episode, campbell and priss were not in a Panic Room but an Escape Room, hence our title.  
> 3\. the baculum is my favorite bone found in many mammals, though not humans. it's the kind of thing i knew about as a weird kid, so i figure neil might know about it too, and what a great uncomfortable thing for a dumb kid to unthinkingly ask about. also i know Some science, but thought it'd be funnier if his "science" suggestions were just totally ridiculous :)  
> 4\. david usually Sucks at devious plans, but i like the idea that he could be good at them if he’d just give himself a little more time to think things through instead of leaping at his first idea. i figured he might plan a little more carefully in this case, bc gwen needs herself some reality tv dammit.  
> 5\. so many breaks in this chapter to try to get to everything in a reasonable number of words (namely less than 4000 per episode). that said, some of this nonsense was very fun to write; i hope you enjoy reading it too!  
> 6\. i'm having some trouble with the sequel lately, but i'm still plugging away at it :)
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


	6. The Butterfinger Rejects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows episode 4x17 (The Butterfinger Effect). See end notes for content warnings.

He’s warm and cozy, wrapped up in her blanket. Vanilla scents the air and the television murmurs in a calming voice. She runs a hand along his neck, soothingly, again and again.

Her hair is down and she’s in her coziest pajamas. She looks relaxed, with an easy smile, and the hand not carding through his hair writes smooth, looping letters into her notebook. She catches him trying to read it and playfully shifts it away.

“Uh-uh, it’s not ready for you yet,” she teases, booping his nose, eyes fond. “Thank you for thinking about me, though. You’re so considerate; I appreciate everything you do,” she says, but then the world  _ twists _ into darkness with sudden, all-over agony.

With a gasp of pain, David wakes up in the cold dirt, human and alone.

He stays there for a moment, catching his breath. He doesn’t think the wolf has dreamed before this -- and it was  _ definitely  _ the wolf, because  _ he  _ wouldn’t be dreaming about that, no sir. And he has no feelings about his transformation pains overwhelming any  _ other  _ bodily reactions that might have also been happening, because it. Because he.

He has to… go over there. Mentally.

The sun peeks over Lake Lilac, painting the camp gold, and David takes a mindful minute to stretch out and appreciate his home. It’s going to be a beautiful day, he’s well-rested, and he had enough time last night to come up with a plan to tell Gwen that he’s a werewolf.

_ This is a good thing _ , he tells himself, determined, as he pulls his bedsheet around him and hooks the silver necklace on one finger.  _ You’ll be able to properly apologize for all the time you’ve missed, and then she’ll be able to help you! You have a solid plan for telling her. This is going to go great! _

He glances into the Counselors Cabin: the light hasn’t reached very far in yet, but he can see the lump under Gwen’s covers that indicates she’s still asleep. He’s quiet as he slides open the window; even though she can sleep through just about anything, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

He’s halfway through the window when a light flicks on to reveal Gwen  _ not  _ under the covers, but instead sitting in her armchair, fully dressed, and calmly watching David with an extremely unamused expression on her face.

David will admit that, upon being startled by the unexpected presence of his apparently-awake coworker while squeezed midway through a tiny window and clad only in a thin bedsheet, he may, from time to time, scream. A  _ little _ .

“David,” says Gwen, cool as ice.

“Gwen!” says David, considerably less coolly. His brain is useless, chasing its tail in circles with frantic, panicking energy. “This… isn’t what it looks like?”

“Really? Because it looks like you’re climbing through our window at dawn while wearing only a bedsheet,” Gwen notes. She raises an eyebrow. “And like you’ve somehow managed to grow a full beard overnight.”

“...Alright, it  _ is  _ what it looks like,” David admits. “But I have a very good reason for all of it, really!”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he fidgets with a discomfort unrelated to the window frame digging into his ribs. “This isn’t really how I wanted to tell you,” he admits.

She waits, and David desperately tries to pull together the scraps of his plan: he’s supposed to sit her down and start with Wolfie, skate around the topic of his missing nights and poorly-kept secrets, then gradually and subtly lead her to the right conclusion all on her own --

“I’m a werewolf,” he blurts out, and then snaps his mouth shut and mentally says a very camp-inappropriate word.

Besides a rapidly aborted twitch, Gwen doesn’t move from her spot on the armchair. She just stares at him, eyes darting around his face, her mouth thinning out til the slash of it stretches across her own. In a low voice, she finally says, “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry,” David says automatically, before his brain catches up with his mouth. “It’s not supposed to be, though. Gwen, I know it’s pretty hard to believe, and this is all really new to me, too, but I actually --”

“Did you find someone special in town?” Gwen asks, and David can  _ feel _ the situation slipping out of his grasp. “Or did you get caught up in one of Campbell’s ‘hair-brained’ schemes?” She actually uses  _ finger-quotes  _ — this isn’t good. “You can just tell me, you know. I  _ can  _ keep a secret.”

“Gwen, I swear to you --”

“Even if I don’t like it, I can handle it. I could even  _ help _ . What, do you need more time away from the kids? I can pick up some slack, if that’s what it is.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, I really --”

“Or, hey, if you really  _ can’t _ tell me, you could just say  _ that _ . Or if you just don’t  _ want _ to; I’ve dealt with a lot of rejection, David, yours wouldn’t be anything new.”

“No!” he protests, a frustrated growl starting low in his throat. “I wouldn’t --”

“But you  _ would _ pretend to be a  _ werewolf _ just so you don’t have to explain anything to your  _ CBFL _ , huh? You’d pick  _ that  _ to throw in my face?”

“I’m  _ not lying _ !” David snaps.

Gwen glares at him for a long, stony moment. Then she gets to her feet, brushing nonexistent dust off her camp uniform. “Right. I’m gonna take breakfast duty.”

David internally swears again as she turns on her heel, heading out. “Gwen, wait --”

_ THWACK,  _ goes the screen door, and he watches helplessly as she storms off to the Mess Hall, ponytail swinging with each stride.

_ That did not go well _ , David notes, sagging miserably. He’d had a whole  _ plan _ \-- leave it to Gwen to tear it down before he could even set it in motion. He and the wolf both want to go after her, but he can’t even do that until he cleans up and gets dressed.

“I... really shouldn’t have done this while stuck in the window,” David realizes.

* * *

“Oh, Quartermaster, I’m torn,” David sighs. “On the one hand, of  _ course _ she wouldn’t believe me -- without any proof it does sound absurd, and she was already unhappy with me for disappearing every night without explanation.”

“Hm,” says the Quartermaster.

“But on the  _ other  _ hand,” David continues, his pout intensifying, “it’s  _ the truth _ . And she stormed off before letting me explain any of it! It’s not like this has been fun or easy for  _ me _ \-- I don’t exactly like abandoning her without telling her why, or having to shave off a full beard every morning, or sleeping in the dirt because I nonconsensually become a different species in the moonlight. I didn’t  _ ask _ for any of this to happen.”

“Such is the curse,” the Quartermaster affirms.

“Right,” David agrees morosely. Space Kid -- or, Race Kid? -- motors around them, snags a lunch tray, and zooms off to find a place to sit. “But it’s also that she  _ knows  _ me. She must know I wouldn’t make something like this up, especially not to be mean to her. I wish she would just consider things from  _ my  _ point of view.”

“Walk a mile in your shoes,” the Quartermaster agrees -- which shoots a lightning bolt of an idea through David that has him leaping to his feet.

“Quartermaster, that’s  _ it _ ,” he exclaims; a new plan weaves together in seconds, one that seems so obvious in retrospect that David slaps a hand to his face. He can explain himself to Gwen, make her understand, and fix everything he’s ruined with this. “I have to go prepare, but thank you  _ so much _ , your wisdom is always such a --”

The Quartermaster snags his arm with the sharp side of his hook; with a yelp, David barely stops in time to avoid cutting open a vein, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. He sometimes forgets how scary the old man can be. “By the way. Need a body double today,” says the Quartermaster.

“Um,” David replies, shuffling his plans, but he can make this work. “Okay, I can do that!” 

He feels a twinge of guilt at planning to leave the kids without supervision, but it won’t be long, and what could possibly go wrong? David grins, dashing out of the Mess Hall to prepare. This is going to go  _ great _ .

* * *

In the end, the new plan  _ does _ go better than telling Gwen he’s a werewolf while mostly-naked and stuck through a tiny window, but only barely.

He and Gwen end up yelling over each other in the Counselors Cabin for twenty minutes, and it certainly doesn’t help when the Quartermaster shows up halfway through inexplicably dressed as Gwen. It takes an interruption from Max for Gwen to finally throw her hands up in exasperation and loudly announce, “That’s it! I need a drink.”

The Quartermaster grunts in agreement as Gwen tugs out the whiskey she keeps under her bed. QM switches out his prosthetic attachment for one with a shot glass; Gwen takes a swig directly from the bottle. When it comes around to David, the obvious choice is to point out that they’re technically on the clock and demure, but the past few days have  _ not _ been easy for him so instead he wordlessly takes it, pulls off a long draft, and throws himself into their armchair.

Gwen’s jaw actually drops a little at that, before she sighs and pinches her nose. “Alright, David. I’ll bite. What’s the problem, really?”

“The Bite  _ is  _ the problem,” he moans, and puts his face in his hands. The wolf in him woofs in sympathy.  _ Thanks _ , David replies miserably.

Gwen lets out a long breath before sinking onto her own bed. “If this is some kind of metaphor, I’m not getting it.”

“It’s _not_ ,” he says into his hands. Why is this _so_ _hard_. “I keep trying to explain it to you, but you’re not _listening_.”

“Fine,” she says tightly. “Let’s try this again: David, you’ve been keeping secrets, going out all night, and leaving me behind to pick up your slack. What’s going  _ on _ with you?”

He peeks through his fingers at her. She’s holding herself a little stiffly, but her hands are gently laced together in her lap and she’s leaning forward. Her focus is totally on him; she’s really making an effort, eyes tired but not hard.

“Ah,” says the Quartermaster, startling both David and Gwen. He looks between the two of them with an air of grim understanding. “This is  _ that  _ type of quarrel. I will leave you.”

The door  _ thwacks  _ shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone. David hesitates, then passes Gwen the whiskey. She caps it and sets it at her feet. “So?”

“Why would I  _ lie _ about it,” he blurts out.

“I don’t know,” she replies, “since they’re not  _ real _ .”

“I didn’t think half-fish-men were either, and then just a few weeks ago  _ you _ were  _ dating _ one.”

“The existence of one supernatural being doesn’t guarantee the existence of the other -- and besides,  _ you _ never believed in werewolves before.”

“That was before I  _ turned into one _ . It’s hard to deny it when I’m the one with paws and a tail, Gwen!”

She leans back with a groan. “Okay, okay. Then how did this even happen?”

David slumps over too, squishing his cheeks. “Quartermaster said it’s because Wolfie bit me and then sacrificed herself to save me? I think?”

She gives him a flat look. “You don’t know?”

The wolf flattens its ears back, embarrassed; David just blushes. “Maybe we should ask QM back?”

“Ech, no thank you. I did  _ not  _ like seeing him in my clothes.”

David chuckles despite himself. “You’re really pulling off mine,” he says.

“Thanks,” she says with a rueful smile. “You’re not so bad yourself. Is the beard a werewolf thing, too?”

He rubs at his face. “In the mornings, yeah, but this one’s fake; QM actually already had it prepared? I… think it might be made of my actual hair,” he admits. Gwen makes a face and offers him the whiskey back, but David waves her off. She toys with it for a moment of companionable silence, but eventually she sighs and puts it back under her bed.

“You understand why I’m having trouble believing this, right?” she says, and David nods quickly -- it’s a  _ lot _ . The only reason he’s not freaking out more is… well. He’s not sure, actually.  _ Should  _ he be freaking out about this more?

“I mean, I can show you? Tonight? If you want?” he offers, pushing those thoughts away -- he can deal with them later. “It happens every time I’m in moonlight.”

At her narrowed eyes, he pulls the silver necklace from his desk drawer and offers it to her. “If I wear this, it stops it from happening for a while. But it’s not very comfortable, so I’ve been leaving at night to take it off and let the transformation happen.”

She stands to take it; their fingers brush as she pulls it from his hand to examine more closely. He watches her creased forehead, her pursed lips, and her focus on the magical bauble.

Sudden, aching relief washes through him as he realizes that she’s willing to go along with this for him. He’s not surprised to blink away tears -- she might not believe him yet, but she trusts him enough to follow him through this and be there with him.

He’s just so lucky to have her in his life.

“Alright,” she sighs. “Alright, David. Tonight.”

* * *

The rest of the day goes relatively smoothly. David isn’t sure what exactly went on with the campers, but he’s pleased to find them all noticeably more supportive of each other when it comes time for that night’s show.

In fact, most of the kids end up stepping in at some point -- Nerris plays background music, Dolph and Race Kid (or maybe he’s Space Kid again?) cheerfully claim credit for collaborating on some of the set-pieces, and Nurf refrains from laughing at even the easiest targets for mockery. Even Max, Neil, and Nikki limit their chaos that evening, clapping with some actual enthuthiasm between acts.

“They’re all being so great tonight,” David whispers to Gwen, only a little teary-eyed. She automatically hands him a tissue as Erid leans over to add her two cents.

“We kinda spent the day, like, learning more about each others’ interests,” the girl admits. “We decided it’d be cool of us to care a little more about the things our friends care about.”

“Erid, that’s so mature!” David squeaks, proud to bursting.

She shrugs. “It's important to think about how  _ other _ people are feeling sometimes, I guess.” She flips her hair and settles back in her seat as a sudden kernel of doubt blooms in David’s chest.

Gwen pays polite attention to the show, her impatience given away only by the occasional glance up at the moon. He looks between her and the tissue she had ready for him, his brow wrinkling.

_ I made Gwen think about me all day today _ , he realizes. His gut sinks.  _ I never once thought about how she might be feeling _ .

Clean-up goes quickly with all of the kids pitching in. David tries to send Gwen to relax in the cabin afterwards, but she waves him off with such easy insistence that he’s sitting on his bed before he even realizes that she’s taken on the duty of putting the kids to bed alone.

David frowns at the werewolf calendar as he pulls his shoes off.  _ It’ll be easier now that she knows _ , he thinks.

But will it be? Sure, it means David can relax a little bit, knowing he has Gwen’s support. But it also means that Gwen will have something else to worry about, something to keep on her mind -- because inevitably David will forget his necklace, or lose his sheet, or any one of a million things he can and will mess up, because that’s just the kind of person he  _ is _ \-- and then Gwen will have to pick up the slack and fix even more of David’s mistakes.

He bites his lip, running a nail along the pendant around his neck as he pads over to the screen door. The low light isn’t an obstacle for him anymore; he can see Gwen all the way across the camp, her hands on her hips as she bosses the kids into their tents.

He turns away, pressing his back against the cabin wall, brain working furiously. Even now, she’s taking responsibility for something David should have insisted he do, just because -- what, he made her feel bad that he has to deal with something he doesn’t want to?

_ I’m being selfish _ , he realizes with a painful squeeze of his heart. The cabin suddenly feels small, the walls closing in on him. The woods around camp rustle soothingly in the breeze.  _ I’m making this her problem when it should just be mine. _

_ This isn’t fair to her. _

He’s out the door before he can think about it, running for the woods, barely conscious of the door shutting behind him with a soft  _ thwack. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: none.
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


	7. Time, Crap-full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows episode 4x18 (Time Crapsules). See end notes for content warnings.

“Gwen,” he whispers. She’s facing away from him, her covers pulled up around her ears, but her breathing is shallow and he saw her stiffen when he swung open the door.

It’s past when her alarm first goes off, too, which means that for David it’s practically late; he’d spent a half hour this morning trying to pace off his nervous energy to no success, finally deciding that he just needed to get it over with, to heck with his feelings about it.

He’s grateful, at least, that he’d had enough presence of mind last night to remove his clothes before tearing off the necklace; even though most of the night is a blur of smells and sounds, at least he hadn’t had to trudge back to camp in the nude, and he’s clothed as he squats next to Gwen’s bed, mouth twisted.

He wishes she would turn and look at him, but he supposes he’s already asked a lot of her. Instead he just takes a deep breath and starts talking.

“I want to apologize for my behavior the past few weeks. I’ve been a really bad co-counselor, especially with everything you already do for the camp. I’m sorry that I tried to make my problems yours, when you shouldn’t feel responsible for any of my issues. I _don’t_ need you to help me with this; I can take care of myself, s-so. I’ll just. Make sure I do all my work, so you can do yours, and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

That almost came out alright; David’s pretty sure he said everything he meant to. Though Gwen is definitely awake, she still hasn’t responded, but he supposes he shouldn’t  _ need  _ her to.

“Um, okay. I’m going to shave and get some fresh clothes, then I’ll go take breakfast duty. Today’s activity is time capsules,” he reminds her. He hesitates only a moment longer, then gets to his feet and leaves her alone.

* * *

She ignores him that morning in the Mess Hall, instead spending the time looking over forms between bites from her breakfast tray. He’s tempted to go over and, well, re-apologize, because he’s starting to think his attempt this morning wasn’t good enough.

But the next time he looks up it’s to see Max sitting beside her with something akin to sympathy on his face, which is so rare an occurrence that David decides to leave them be and hope that whatever they’re saying to each other about him isn’t too bad. He also does a quick loop back to the tents once he realizes Nurf is absent, but he’s there when David double checks the Mess Hall so he lets it go and goes searching for the time capsule boxes.

“Hey,” Gwen says, and David nearly loses his box of boxes in surprise. She’s studying her nails with intense idleness, like it’s by chance that they’re both in the storage closet at the same time.

“Gwen,” he starts, but she steamrolls over his words.

“Just wanted to say I understand what you were talking about this morning. We both have responsibilities with the camp, and we should keep them separate. Sorry I’ve been pushy about your personal life; I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Um,” says David, because that doesn’t sound quite right, but she’s still talking.

“It’s none of my business what you do after hours, so I won’t bug you about it anymore. We’ll keep things professional: outside of the camp, you don’t need me, and I don’t need you.”

That  _ really _ doesn’t sound right, but in the time it takes David to untie his tongue Gwen has given him a sharp nod and dismissed herself, turning on her heel and heading out to the Activities Field.

The wolf whines so pitifully that it takes David a moment to realize it came out of  _ his _ mouth too, after which he groans and buries his burning face in his armful of boxes. He’s  _ really _ bungled this apology.

_ What do you think?  _ he morosely asks the wolf.  _ Postpone starting the kids’ time capsules, or go re-apologize to Gwen now just to mess it up in a new way? _

_ RUN? _ the wolf offers, and David leaves the storage closet with a sigh.

“That’s not the kind of person I want to be,” he murmurs back to it, and sets a smile on his face as he heads out to start the day’s activities.

* * *

He should have known that Max’s apparent kindness wouldn’t last, but David is still surprised when he snatches Gwen’s diary from Nurf (which does explain where their biggest camper was during breakfast) not to give it back to her, but to mockingly read it aloud.

That surprise is nothing, however, compared to the downright shock of  _ wrong-wrong-wrong _ that is Gwen bursting into tears. It knocks the wind out of him, leaving him worried and frustrated as he tries to both reassure the kids and chastise Max.

David has lost count of how many times he himself has cried in just the past month, but Gwen is so much stronger than him. She hardly ever lets things get to her, but this is the second time he’s seen her cry in the past  _ week _ , and it hasn’t escaped his notice that  _ this _ shift coincides with the start of  _ David’s _ nightly shifts.

So he’s feeling muddled and guilty enough already when Neil reminds him that just a few weeks ago David had had the bright idea to bring a violent criminal to camp  _ explicitly to threaten his campers _ . Sure, he’d meant well — he almost always does — but that had ended poorly, too, with the kids disappointed in him, Mr. Campbell walking off none the wiser ( _ or  _ kinder), and he and Max held at actual gunpoint.

_ Am I... a bad person? _ he wonders, fear and guilt tightening in his chest. The wolf whines, and David bites his lip — then hisses, having accidentally punctured it with the teeth he’s still not used to. He licks the blood off and presses a sleeve to his face, which does the tidy double-duty of soaking up the few tears that automatically leak out because he’s — he’s —

Because he  _ is _ bad. Because he’s worse than he was at the start of the summer, when it felt like he was finally getting the hang of things, like the future was starting to feel stable. Because not only has this summer been filled with the unexpected (corporate takeovers, biweekly shutdowns, an attempt from Mr. Campbell to have David thrown in Super Guantanamo, the whole  _ werewolf thing _ ), but it’s also  _ repeatedly _ seen David put himself before everyone else. He’s made things harder for Gwen, put pressure on the campers that they don’t deserve, even forgotten to say “please” — and there’s no telling how much further he’ll let himself slide.

When he himself had made his own time capsule all those years ago, he’d only just been figuring out how to do good. That little boy had been filled with hope for his future, that he might learn to do for others what Camp Campbell had done for him. And here he is, a counselor himself, in the perfect position to set a positive example for his impressionable campers, and all he’s done is mess it up.

Is he even fit to work here? It’d been his dream, but if he’s not doing any good for the kids — if he’s showing them how to be  _ worse _ — then maybe it’s time he sat down and gave some serious thought to what he’s doing at Camp Campbell.

But what else would he even  _ do _ ? Clown college had been a bust, and David’s schooling otherwise leaves a lot to be desired. He’s not sure what he even  _ likes _ , besides nature, and it’s not like he can make a job solely out of that.

Not to mention -- his heart starts hammering -- he’s got an additional complication now in the form of the bone-twisting, fur-raising, shape-changing werewolf thing. He’d need to find a job with no crossover into the night, for one thing. He’d have to move, maybe find an apartment -- should he tell prospective roommates? -- or move back in with his mom -- should he tell his _mom_? Plus last night he’d been so freaked out that the wolf in him had _taken over_. It had been fine, out there in the forest, but there’s no telling what it might do if it was trapped in a city somewhere, cornered by some well-meaning passerby. What if he _hurt_ someone?

David is, in one way, exactly where he wanted to be when he was a child. But in everything else, the future looms over him, foreboding and uncaring. Whatever David decides to do could brighten his possibilities, but with his track record lately there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t make things  _ worse _ .

“Ehm, David?”

David whirls around, the wolf raising its hackles that someone would  _ dare  _ sneak up on him, to find Dolph staring up at him with big, watery eyes. David’s heart, if possible, falls even further.

“I can't decide what to put in  _ mein  _ time capsule -- I wanted to put in black paint to symbolize the hopelessness of existence, but isn’t that a waste of materials that should be saved for when someone comes along who actually stands a chance at becoming  _ un _ great artist?”

Feeling worse than the dirt beneath his shoes, David nonetheless does his best to collect himself. Even if he’s not the best counselor, not the counselor the campers deserve -- even if his own future feels nebulous and dangerous -- it’s his job to reassure these kids that their own lives could turn out better than his. It’s the very least he can do.

* * *

David is relieved that by the end of the impromptu firepit, Gwen, Max, and the rest of the campers all seem more at ease about their place in life and what their futures may hold. Relaxed faces abound as they gaze into the flames, occasionally tossing in the odd leaf or scrap of garbage; even as she comforts Mr. Campbell and treats his (fortunately only minor) burns, David is relieved to spot the hint of a smile on Gwen’s face. 

Several of the kids fall asleep before lights-out. He and Gwen wordlessly work together to carry them to their tents while the rest of their campers brush their teeth. With David’s awareness that his own presence here next summer isn’t promised, it feels particularly bittersweet to put Max to bed; when the boy’s asleep, he almost doesn’t look like the little wildcat that’s been trying to escape Camp Campbell since the moment he stepped foot here.

David stays out for a little longer, looking over Camp Campbell and Lake Lilac. The waters are calm this evening, reflecting the thousand stars visible in the night sky this far from the city, and David peers down at his own face in its dark waters.

If he moves the right way, he can see the light refracting in his eyes, flashing eerily like an animal’s. A practice smile reveals his teeth, sharper than they ever were before, and he frowns as he pulls the silver necklace out from beneath his shirt. It winks merrily in the moonlight.

Finally, he gets to his feet and heads back to the Counselors Cabin.

Gwen is retaping her last poster to the wall when the screendoor closes behind him with a soft  _ thwack _ . She glances up, and David watches the way her face twists: uncertain in the lift of her lip, apologetic in the slant of her brow, rueful in the way she avoids his gaze. “Listen, David,” she says, sinking down onto her bed. “This morning, I wasn’t being exactly fair --”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” bursts out of David, and he shouldn’t interrupt her but he couldn’t stop the words that come pouring out of him any easier than he could stop the tears already running down his face. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with me having to leave all the time and forgetting things and being a wolf at night so I thought it’d be better if I kept it away from you, but I couldn’t think of anything that would do that except running away, but then that made it worse so I tried to apologize b-but I made you think you weren’t i-i-important but you  _ are _ !! You’re  _ so important  _ and I c-couldn’t run the camp without you and maybe I  _ shouldn’t  _ run the camp? At all?? But then I’d just be leaving you with  _ more  _ work when you already work  _ so hard  _ and it’s  _ not f-fair _ , so I shouldn’t be bothering you with this too but I don’t know what to  _ do _ , what if I have to go live in the  _ city  _ and I get caught by  _ dog catchers  _ or what if I accidentally bite my  _ mom _ , I haven’t even  _ told  _ her yet, plus Max and Neil and Nikki already figured it out and — and I’m  _ sorry _ , I’m supposed to be apologizing to  _ you  _ but I can’t even do  _ that  _ right, b-because you’re so smart and you work s-s-so hard and I’m just — just —“ The wolf whines and David blurts it out — “just a bad CBFL and a bad friend and a bad  _ dog _ , Gwen, I’m sorry, I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry —“

He’s swiping ineffectually at his face, trying to stem the flow of tears and feeling like he’s bungling this  _ again _ , Gwen deserves so much better, why can’t he —

“It’s okay!! David, calm down -- it’s okay, okay? We’re  _ okay _ .”

She puts her hands on his face, sending a bolt of shock-neediness-gratitude cutting through the prickly feeling of the pendant against his chest, and forces him to look at her. He blinks, tears still trailing down his cheeks. “...bwuh?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, small but genuinely, the edges of her eyes crinkled with it. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s pretty shitty that you ran away last night, and your apology this morning was  _ total  _ garbage, but. I get it.  _ If  _ this werewolf thing is real -- and for now I’m just gonna assume it is for the sake of this argument -- then of  _ course  _ it freaked you out. Of  _ course _ you ran when you had to deal with it; anyone would, even if they had your freaky optimism and adaptability.” She wipes at his tears with her thumbs, looking worried and -- fond? David blinks at her; she sits back on her heels, taking her hands away to cross them in front of her, looking fixedly down at them instead of David.

“I…  _ appreciate  _ that you were thinking about my feelings, David. And you definitely  _ should _ , in the future -- but you don’t have to try to protect me from  _ your  _ feelings.” She makes a face like she’s smelled something unpleasant, twisting her hands. “God help me, but I  _ want  _ to help you, okay? Not just with this stupid camp -- and by the way, I don’t know  _ what  _ made you think about leaving me with it, but this shithole  _ needs  _ you. So you don’t get to run away to some other job, or move back in with your mom, or go live alone in the woods eating rabbits or some shit -- you belong  _ here _ . At the camp.” She bites her lip, hesitantly reaching out a hand to touch the silver chain of his necklace and avoiding his gaze. “And with me.”

David stares at her, not entirely certain he’d heard her right. She catches sight of his expression and rolls her eyes, before gently closing his hanging jaw with a single finger to his chin. David gulps, his mouth suddenly dry.

She’s actually  _ blushing _ , her face scrunched in embarrassment, but with a deep breath she rallies and looks him in the eye, her own flashing with determination and maybe just a little fear. “You’re important to me, too, David. Whatever you’re going through, I can be there with you. I  _ want  _ to help you figure this out.” She looks away then, and David watches her with awe as she jokingly pouts, like she didn’t just admit to actually  _ caring  _ about him and the camp both, maybe even in the same way he cares about her. “Plus, you probably need my help anyway. I mean,” she pauses to tug the necklace over his head, dangling it from a finger. “You’re really just  _ trusting _ some supposedly magical shit the Quartermaster gave you? I’ve got, like, a million degrees -- I’m sure  _ one _ of them can help us figure this out together.”

She gives him one of her perfect grins -- mischief bunching it up at the corners, humor twinkling in her eyes, her whole face brightened by it in a way he so rarely gets to see, and David blinks away the tears that are suddenly pouring from his eyes again because she -- she --

“Gwen,” he sobs, and catapults himself at her to wrap his arms around her and  _ thank  _ her, because he doesn’t deserve her at all but she still wants to be there with him, to help him, and he’s just so, so grateful --

And then he crosses into the beam of moonlight shining through the window and all of his clothes  _ rrrip _ and by the time he lands on her with their combined “(w) _ oof _ ”s he’s covered in fur and she’s face-to-muzzle with a fully transformed werewolf.

They blink at each other for a moment of mutual surprise. “Holy shit,” she finally says, and David realizes that he’s technically on top of her while naked (ACK! INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR) and scrambles to the side, ears flattened back, wishing he could apologize, while she just lays on the floor and stares at him with wide eyes. “That was…”

He winces wolfishly -- horrible to see? Terrifying? The kind of thing that makes her realize that she wants no part in David’s stupid, crazy life? He wants to  _ run _ , out the door and into the woods, but he’s not going to. He wants to get down on the ground and, he doesn’t know, roll over so she can rip his throat out or something (Is… that a normal thing to want? He’s not sure). It feels like his life is in her hands, like she could make or break his future with a word.

“... _ the coolest thing I’ve ever seen _ .”

He blinks, but she’s pushing herself to her elbows and reaching for him and the moment she tangles her hand in the fur on his neck he  _ melts _ into her grasp.

There are practically stars in her eyes as she runs her fingers through his fur and then she  _ scratches behind his ears  _ and David sinks to the ground, shocked by how weak she’s made him with just a touch. “You’re so  _ red _ . And  _ big  _ \-- was your wolf this big? This happens  _ every night _ ? David, this is  _ so cool _ , I can’t believe -- is it still you in there? You’re not gonna bite me or anything, right?”

He has enough presence of mind to shake his head no, but then she scratches under his chin and he loses track of things for a little bit. Her touch always makes him feel better, but this is  _ unreal  _ \-- would it be like this if she did it when he was a human, too?

Her snicker brings him back, and he finds himself rolled on his back with his back leg bouncing like he’s trying to scratch an itch. He quickly flips back over and whines at her, embarrassed, but she looks so flat-out  _ delighted  _ in a way he hardly ever gets to see that he can’t help the  _ thump _ of his tail wagging against the floor.

“You have a  _ tail _ \-- can you feel it?” she grabs the end of it and wiggles it around like a cat toy, which makes David want to  _ chase _ it, but he resists and nods at her as she lets it go to poke at the scraps of fabric on the floor. “Yikes; it  _ wrecked  _ your outfit. We’ll have to figure out a way to avoid that. Maybe you can carry clothes with you like this? We could probably fold them and tie them around your neck, like your bandana.”

As she puts a hand to her chin in thought, David’s heart soars at her use of “we.” It’s been a few minutes and already she’s figuring things out that David never would have. She murmurs to herself as she combs through the fur on his back, making and discarding plans with the kind of thoughtful focus that will never be David’s forte.

He watches her, feeling full to bursting with pride and gratitude and a great, nearly overwhelming  _ love  _ for his co-counselor. Eventually she stands up, stretching, and aims a somewhat wry smile at him.

“I don’t know about you, but this week has been pretty hellish on my end. I know it’s kind of… boring, compared to werewolf stuff, but would you maybe want to just relax for a bit? We could put on some Rob Boss?” she says, looking hopeful as she tilts her head at him.

David’s desire to say  _ YES _ is so powerful -- without thinking about it, he automatically sits back on his haunches and lets loose a  _ howl _ , filled with his joy and affection and  _ Gwen Gwen Gwen _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: panicky thoughts about the future; minor breakdown (?).
> 
> 1\. still don’t know why this fic took such violent control over my brain to get written and finished in a week, but there it all is. this chapter kinda makes me squirm (esp Gwen, achhhh) but it’s done so might as well post it, yes?  
> 2\. there’s more to this story! still pluggin away at the sequel from gwen’s pov about what to do when ur cute coworker turns into a (hot???) monster, and then a little extra bit about how the rest of the camp reacts. subscribe to the series to keep up w them ;)
> 
> this has been neat! thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, hope all is well w you :) til next time!


End file.
